Fifty Shades of Severus
by x-nefertari-x
Summary: A sixth year student, with a reputation for promiscuity, unwittingly starts an affair with the meanest teacher in school. However, she ends up getting more than she bargained for... This is Hogwarts after dark! **ON HIATUS UNTIL AFTER CHRISTMAS**
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. (Yes, Tricia too! Or Patricia to give her full name; I have, however, taken some rather large artistic liberties as she is only mentioned once and it's not even definite she's a Gryffindor)._

_Please feel free to review!_

**Chapter Warnings: language, yuri (indirectly referenced).**

Chapter One

Tricia left the revelry of the Great Hall behind as she slipped out into the Entrance Hall, away from the celebrations. It had been fun while it lasted: the shock on everyone's faces when they saw the estimable Quidditch prodigy enter on the arm of another woman. It had been fun to see the teachers whisper as Tricia had steered Katie around the dance floor, flipping her, twirling her, making her laugh. It had been especially fun to see the mixture of disbelief and intrigue on the faces of their Gryffindor peers as Tricia had filched a sly kiss under the mistletoe. But, when it all came down to it, Katie wasn't like she was. She had agreed to go for the novelty of it, it seemed, and nothing more. It had not been long before a boy had approached her and Tricia had graciously let her date for the evening slip away. Tricia was not upset: it had been a laugh and, she thought wickedly as stepped into the draughty hallway, there was another hetero Hogwarts girl she could add to her list of conquests.

Smiling a small, private smile, Tricia meandered towards the open doors and let crisp night air refresh her senses. The Entrance Hall was quite empty: all of the castle's occupants and guests were either in the Hall or out in the gardens, trying to steal a few private moments with their dates. She thought for a moment about nipping back inside and trying to pry Alicia Spinnet away from her man candy - that depraved little minx would do anything for her - but decided against it. She was not really in the mood for Alicia's incessant talking.

As she leant pensively against a chilly, stone door jamb, wondering what to do with the rest of her evening, she heard quick footsteps approaching from outside. She had barely looked up before she spotted Professor Snape, sweeping up towards the castle, his cloak billowing and his greasy black hair speckled with enchanted snow.

'Great,' Tricia thought, rolling her eyes. 'Of all the things I could be doing right now, detention would not have been my first choice…'

However, she stayed resolutely where she was, quite determined that she was doing no wrong by simply taking in a little air. Not that ever mattered to him of course: if he wanted you punished, he'd find something.

"Miss Stimpson," he muttered, and Tricia felt the usual shiver as his cold, black eyes met her own. "What are you doing out here?"

"Getting some fresh air, Professor," she replied innocently, quite determined to stare him down. He glanced subtly around the hallway before turning his gaze to her once more.

"No date?" he asked. His tone was casual enough but the cruel smirk that pulled at his lips said otherwise; he was goading her. Tricia frowned, determined not to rise to the bait.

"No, sir," she replied quietly, forcing her tone to remain civil. "Not anymore."

"What a pity," Snape murmured, silkily. "Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, Miss Stimpson. There are a limited number girls inclined to such proclivity after all."

His black eyes glittered with cold triumph as the outrage crossed her face. It took all of her self control not to slap him.

"And what is that supposed to mean, _Professor_?" she hissed, spitting his title out as she would do a curse. He smirked all the more, closing the gap between them and dropping his voice to a bare whisper.

"Oh, I think you know," he intimated. "You have a reputation, Miss Stimpson, for being rather free with your… _affections_." He sneered. "Have you perchance exhausted your options?"

"Fuck you!" Tricia spat venomously, before she could stop herself. At once, his black eyes widened in disbelief and fury, and Tricia knew she was seconds away from serious trouble.

"I beg your pardon?" he breathed, his voice dangerously low as he bore down menacingly upon the Gryffindor. Tricia felt a strange mixture of horror and thrill as he towered over her but she pushed it aside to let her anger flow freely. She didn't care if he was a teacher - no one got away with speaking to her like that.

"You heard me!" she snarled. "Fuck you. You think I don't know what you're doing? I didn't see you in there tonight, Professor - no date? Of course not, when was the last time you saw any action? Maybe if you stopped trying to ruin everyone else's fun, you might get a little!"

She knew she'd already gone too far; Snape's usually sallow face had flushed a nasty brick colour. There was vein twitching in his temple and his coal-coloured eyes were glittering with anger.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Stimpson," he whispered, the tremulous note to voice testament to his barely restrained fury. "And detention, every Saturday for the next month. You dare-"

"Oh, give it up!" snapped Tricia, unable to stop herself now. "You think I'm scared of you? What can you do?"

"You be surprised," Snape snarled, eyes flashing. "I can make your life utterly miserable, Miss Stimpson, if I so choose to. Do you see this?" He stuffed a hand into his robes viciously and for a moment, Tricia though he was going to pull his wand on her. However, what he retrieved was merely a small crystal phial of a clear liquid. "Veritaserum," he hissed, dangerously. "You know by now what that is? Naturally, the use of such a powerful potion on a student is prohibited but one more word from you and you might just find my hand _slips_ over your morning pumpkin juice. How would you like to spill your innermost secrets in front of the entire school, hm?"

Tricia glowered at him. She could not deny, the thought was alarming. But she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Instead, she did her best impression of his trademark sneer, leaning back against the wall with as much arrogance as she could muster.

"What secrets, Professor?" she murmured, lazily. "You said it yourself, I have no secrets; everyone round here knows my business. Unless this is your way to get the sordid details out of me for your own wicked means - in which case, you might try asking first-"

That had done it. His eyes widened so much that Tricia could see their whites and his face became a mask of pure, unbridled fury. Quickly, he glanced about, scanning the hallway for anyone who might bear witness to whatever he was going to do. Tricia expected to be hexed but instead the man simply grabbed her roughly by the arm and pushed her hard against the doorframe.

"How dare you!" he thundered, and he shook her roughly. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Do I need to make it a hundred points from Gryffindor before you employ a little penitence?"

Tricia would normally have been horrified at such a loss but at that moment in time, she didn't care. She was livid and shaking and, strangely enough, thoroughly excited. This man's powerful fury, his surprising weight bearing down upon her, and his use of that particular word sparked something she knew she should not be feeling.

"Penitence?" she repeated, unable to keep the intrigue out of her voice. The term brought a flood of inappropriate images to her mind; Snape slapping her smart across the face, Snape chaining her up, crucifix style, as he dripped hot wax over her bare flesh, Snape bending her over his knee and whipping her (ill-behaved) backside with a vicious switch. She blinked, trying to clear her head, and was surprised to note that he had pulled away, shock and embarrassment evident on his face as though he had seen it too. Tricia smirked.

"Legilimency's a curse as much as a blessing, isn't it, Professor?" she murmured. She knew she was skating on perilously thin ice now but she found she no longer cared - this was just too entertaining.

"Leave," Snape ordered her, quietly, his face completely inscrutable. "Leave now and we will never speak of this again. I will arrange Mr. Filch to do your detentions."

And he turned away, his black robes billowing as he headed towards the dungeons. Apparently, he had nothing more to say to her. She should have walked away then, should have considered herself lucky but Tricia felt like a child denied a treat and she was not about to let that happen. Before he had gotten halfway across the empty Entrance Hall, she called after him.

"What's the matter, Professor? Don't pretend you didn't like what you saw!"

Tricia was pleased to see him stop dead in his tracks. Slowly, ominously, he turned to glance at her, his expression thunderous, and he was beside her again in seconds.

"Have you completely taken leave of your senses, Miss Stimpson?" he raged. "What exactly, are you trying to achieve b-"

His sentence hung in the air unfinished, however, for Tricia had chosen that moment so press her lips fiercely against his own. Not at all gently, she seized the front of his voluminous black robes and subjected him to a thoroughly searching kiss. She did not know what had made her do it. What she did know was that she would gladly do it again. Passion, the likes of which she had never known, surged through her, accompanied by a burst of reckless excitement. The potion's master made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat and Tricia had just enough time to wonder what he was thinking before something collided with her side, knocking her to floor. Slightly dazed, she blinked upwards to see the formidable teacher towering over her, anger emanating from him like heat from a flame.

"You dare…?" he hissed. "Get up! You are in a world of trouble…"

Feeling rather dazed, Tricia staggered to her feet and was at once seized roughly by the arm. Snape said not a single word more, though his fury was palpable, as he marched her towards an empty classroom off the Hall. His pace was punishing and Tricia struggled hard to keep up with his lengthy strides as her high heels snagged the hems of her gown.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Please feel free to review!_

**Chapter Warnings: mild violence, sexual themes.**

* * *

Chapter Two

"Hey, watch the dress," Tricia cried, stumbling as Snape dragged her along in his wake.

"Miss Stimpson, your dress is the very least of your worries!" came his snarling response. He opened the classroom door with a savage jab of his wand and all but threw his fugitive inside of it. It was not until the door had snapped shut again that he whirled on her, a tempest of black robes and flashing obsidian eyes.

"Explain yourself," he ground out as he advanced on her, looking for all the world like a predatory dementor. Tricia scooted back against a desk, her heart pounding with a queer cocktail of trepidation and excitement. She couldn't think why but suddenly her past encounters - and they were plenty- seemed tame compared to this. This was thrilling, in a new way; a terrifying but wonderful way.

"What's there to explain?" she shrugged, calmly. "We're both adults, Professor - we know what it was."

"Yes, I know _what_!" Snape spat, taking another furious step towards her. "I want to know _why_! What possessed you, you idiot girl? If anyone had seen that…!"

"No one saw," Tricia replied hotly. "You have nothing to worry about."

"WHY?!" he demanded again, his eyes burning.

"I don't know," sighed Tricia. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. You're so… different. So _not_ vanilla. I like that. I'm bored of vanilla."

Whatever response the tutor had been expecting, that was apparently not one of them. Snape stared, his eyes blank, his face a canvas of confusion. For a moment, there was silence then a peculiar sound, half derisive snort, half laugh.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put you in detention for the rest of your school days," he uttered, in a dangerous voice. Tricia, however, simply smiled.

"You'd have me in detention after that?" she quipped. "Really, Professor, it's like you're asking for it."

"Don't!" he snarled, seizing a fistful of her gown carelessly to glower in her face. "Don't you even-!"

He realised his mistake, however, a second too late as Tricia leant in and stole another kiss from his bared lips. She felt another spurt of excitement that went straight to her loins but it was cut short by a stinging blow to her face: he had slapped her.

"Enough," he hissed. "I will not stand for this mockery."

Tricia lifted her hand to her tingling visage and was surprised to feel a warm trickle of blood there; evidently, he had split her lip. She should, by all rights, have been upset or even furious but the only emotion she could manage to summon was a perverse sort of thrill. She laughed bitterly.

"In what twisted world does my throwing myself at you constitute as mockery?" she scoffed. "I'm not sure how I can make it any more obvious."

"Stop!" he responded. "Just stop!"

"You don't mean that," laughed Tricia. "If you really wanted me to stop, you'd have left by now."

His eyes widened and she could not resist a smirk of triumph. It was true that, despite his protests, despite his slapping her, he had not made a single attempt to back away. He was still as close to her as he decently could be, close enough surely to feel the heat of her body and the electricity that was practically sizzling between them. She watched his gaze dip briefly to her lips and it was all the encouragement she needed. This time Snape did not pull away when she kissed him. This time, he did not moan in surprise but in resignation and then again in … was that desire? This time, in the privacy of a locked room, she felt his lips move cautiously against her own, felt his breath quicken upon her skin before he slowly pulled away.

"No," he murmured hoarsely, more to himself than to her. "No, absolutely not! This cannot happen!"

He seemed torn between his professional integrity and the hunger he had unwillingly betrayed by returning her kiss. Tricia could not understand it.

"No one's going to find out," she shrugged. "I think between us, we can manage to keep this hushed up, don't you?"

"But you-" he began, fiercely, turning away from her.

"Why would _I_ tell?" Tricia responded. "I'd be kicked out the school as surely as you would! If we're careful, no one would ever need to know."

She tugged at the thick fabric of his robes, pulling him around to face her. There was something in his eyes, in the expression on his face, that she had never seen before. It seemed his hunger was winning. Indeed, when Tricia leant in for another kiss, he took her shakily by the chin and claimed her mouth. It was a rather clumsy gesture, lacking in the level of practise and expertise that she was used to. Yet, despite of its lack of finesse, it was incredibly gratifying and Tricia found she was pressing herself quite shamelessly against Snape's lean frame, aching for a little more contact. Her evening gown was constricting, bulky, and it acted as a cushion between them, preventing her from feeling the sweet friction she craved. Nevertheless, she tangled her arms around his neck, allowing him to do the same, and they staggered back against a disused desk. Tongues danced and darted heatedly and Tricia tasted the sweet, heady notes of mulled wine as he quested eagerly into her mouth. A low groan resounded in his throat, a feral noise that made her quiver in his arms.

"Oh," she gasped, breaking away to catch her breath. "Oh, Professor…"

He said nothing, simply smirked, his hand running possessively down her back. His fingers were oddly smooth - undoubtedly years of cauldron heat - and they glided over and over her exposed shoulders, caressing her until she trembled. Again, their lips met and he was a little firmer in his kiss, his need obviously rising as their bodies were crushed together. The hands on her back travelled nervously lower and groped for the bottom that lay smothered in layers of crimson tulle. Tricia's heart thundered in her chest - was he actually going to take her, right on this desk? She had only had a couple of male lovers and whilst she had found them inattentive and immature, the physical act - the sensation of them deep inside her - was something she had never been able to replicate with a woman. She wondered how he might feel inside of her; how it might feel to have him filling her, taking her, roughly and completely. She felt she might have found out, had it not been for the intrusive knocking upon the classroom door.

"Who's in there?" barked Professor McGonagall from the Entrance Hall. "Don't think I can't see the light under the door! Rogers, that better not be you, I've told you once already…"

Tricia and Snape sprang apart so quickly they almost knocked the desk over. Immediately, the Gryffindor student began to smooth her hair, looking wide-eyed at her Professor for some sort of instruction. He pressed a finger to his lips for her to be silent and she nodded.

"Enter, Minerva, it is only I," he called lazily. "I am merely discussing with Miss Stimpson her use of inappropriate language on school property."

Tricia made a sound of outrage but he hushed her silently, a tiny smirk on his thin lips.

"The door is locked, Severus," McGonagall informed him briskly - she never had taken kindly to his reprimanding her students. "Otherwise I would enter."

"It is?" Snape shot back, his tone one of feigned surprise. "My apologies, it has become a habit as of late, considering… well…"

He pointed his wand at the door and there was an audible clunk as the mechanism unlocked itself. The door swung open and Professor McGonagall entered, looking mildly disgruntled.

"What seems to be the problem, Severus?" she asked, her beady eyes darting between him and Tricia, who tried not to look too guilty.

"It is settled, Minerva," Snape replied, in his usual silky manner. "Miss Stimpson has received detention with myself tomorrow night. Perhaps she will learn to use her tongue more wisely in future."

He shot a meaningful glance over her housemaster's shoulder. It was all Tricia could do to stay silent and not gawp - or worse, blush. The intent behind his seemingly innocuous words was clear and there was a subtle glitter to his eyes that anyone else might have missed. It made her heart pound with anticipation.

"Quite," said McGonagall stiffly, and she gave Tricia a hard look.

"Is there something you required of me, Minerva?" the potion's master asked.

"No," McGonagall replied, "I merely thought… but never mind, that is clearly not the case."

"Then I will take my leave," Snape nodded. "My office, three 'o'clock tomorrow, Miss Stimpson. You would do well to remember."

And, with the barest of smirks, he swept from the classroom, leaving Tricia alone with her none-too-happy head of house.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Just a quick note to say thank you to everyone who has read, faved, followed and reviewed! I'm so grateful and so glad you're enjoying it so far! I thought I'd throw in a bonus chapter this week to show my appreciation. :) __ Also, I find myself in something of a conundrum. With Harry Potter being primarily a kiddies book and all, the lovely JK never goes into details about what the older kids might get up to in secluded corners, how they might __**protect themselves**__ etc. I'm assuming there must be some form of magical birth control – but what the eff would they call it? I'm genuinely stumped. I'll be giving it some thought over the next week but if anyone has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!_

_Until Thursday… 3_

**Chapter Warnings: sexual themes, mentions of yuri.**

* * *

Chapter Three

McGonagall had chewed Tricia out for a good ten minutes before letting her go, ranting about foreign guests, making a good impression and, worst of all, showing up the side in front of certain teachers. However, she'd let her off without further reprimand; apparently the prospect of a Boxing Day detention with Snape was punishment enough.

Tricia, of course, did not share this opinion. Her pulse was still racing with excitement as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, wondering what delights could possibly be in store for her.

The common room was surprisingly quiet when she returned. The only occupants of the dimly lit room were Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson and, judging by the positioning of their hands, they were far too busy to have noticed her. So she made her way up to her dormitory, planning to finish what Snape had started. An odd contrast of emotions plagued her as she changed into her pyjamas. She felt the residual thrill of her heated encounter with the teacher - not to mention a burning, unspent lust that moistened her underwear. Yet at the same time, she felt rather cheated. Why did McGonagall have to have found them? If it were not for her, she might have been flat on her back by now, being pleasantly pounded. She wondered with a hint of amusement how _he_ was faring in the dungeons; she thought for a moment of him sitting behind his desk, masturbating furiously under the table. It was silly, and completely improbable - surely, he'd just go to bed? - but nevertheless she laughed at the image. She was just about to slip into bed and follow his imaginary example when there was a light rap on the dormitory door and someone slipped inside. Tricia glanced up irritably to see Katie Bell approaching her bed. She too had shunned her evening dress in favour of her pyjamas and dressing gown, and she was looking at Tricia with an unmistakably apologetic expression.

"I saw you coming up the stairs," she murmured, timidly, and Tricia was amused to notice she was wringing her hands. "I just wanted to come and say goodnight - and that I'm sorry! I shouldn't have left with Lee when I went with you."

"It's okay," Tricia shrugged, inviting the girl to join her on the bed.

"It's not," sighed Katie, shaking her head. "It was really rude of me. We've had some fun, Tish, and you're really amazing but I don't think the whole bisexual thing is where I'm at."

"I know," smiled Tricia. "I guessed some time ago. But hey, you've figured yourself out and we had fun in the process. So don't apologise - I had a great night."

Katie's face split into a suggestive smile and she inched in a bit closer.

"Oh really?" she giggled. "Who did you end up sneaking off with?"

Tricia shook her head. "I can't say," she muttered, an uncharacteristic blush creeping over her cheekbones. Katie laughed aloud, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.

"Oh come on!" she cried. "You're blushing like a virgin! Who have you been fooling around with? Was it one of the Beauxbatons girls?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea," murmured Tricia. "No I'm serious, I can't say, it's so serious it's not even funny."

"Come on, I swear I won't say anything!"

Tricia looked very hard at her friend. She desperately wanted to talk about what had just happened but it was such a risky secret to share - she was not sure she could trust anyone not to freak out.

"I'll tell you when I'm more certain what it means," she answered, eventually. "It was just a hasty kiss - and it got interrupted anyway. But I'm meeting him again tomorrow, so I guess I'll see then."

Katie seemed to take this all in her stride.

"So it's a him, then?" she grinned, knowingly. "That's an interesting deviation for you."

Tricia laughed, leaning back onto the softness of her pillow.

"It's been a while," she admitted. "It might make a nice change."

Katie eyed her appraisingly.

"Honestly," she muttered, "I didn't think you like boys like that. I know, I know - you've had boyfriends before but they were both before you started, well, experimenting. I always thought you'd just not figured yourself out yet."

"Can a girl not like both?" shrugged Tricia. "I sure do, sexually speaking at least. Men and women are so wonderfully different; you get things from a female lover that you simply can't expect from a male and vice versa. But, in all honesty, I find guys my own to be too emotionally immature. They're hard work. That's why I tend to veer towards the ladies."

She bounced her eyebrows at the pretty, younger girl across from her and Katie smiled indulgently.

"Maybe that's the problem," she suggested. "You've been going for men your own age. Perhaps you should try dating someone older?"

Tricia had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing. If she didn't know it was impossible, she might have thought her friend suspected something. It _was_ impossible though and she had to force herself not to behave conspicuously.

"Maybe I should," she agreed, with a minute smile. "But it's not going to happen here. Enough about me though. How did it go with Lee?"

Katie blushed again, her mouth twisting in a guilty grin.

"Quite well, I guess," she admitted. "He was really sweet at first. He took me out onto the grotto and we kissed for a while behind the fountain… but then he started getting a bit grabby and I didn't know what to do. So I made up some really lame excuse about having a headache and practically ran for it."

She winced as she spoke and Tricia felt a pang of guilt for the younger Gryffindor.

"Why?" she asked, kindly. "Did you not want to?"

"No! No, I actually did but… well, I guess I was scared. I've never been with a man before. Not like that."

Tricia's eyes widened.

"Seriously?" she breathed. "Never? But I thought you and Cormac-"

"Not all the way," Katie sighed, sounding more deflated than embarrassed. "We fooled around a little but nothing more."

Tricia frowned. She rather wished Katie had told her this before they'd had their fun. She didn't like to mess around with virgins unless they were certain they were gay; she found it only caused problems.

"Are you angry?" Katie asked, hesitantly.

"No, I'm not angry," replied Tricia, quietly. "You might have told me though. No matter - what's done is done."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mislead you. It was just so much easier with you - with Cormac and with Lee tonight I was so nervous, so self-conscious. But with you I felt safe." Her face crumpled and she gazed at Tricia through reticent eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Tricia smiled. "For some reason, it's less threatening to be intimate with a woman. Perhaps it's because we're so similar - or maybe because we're more used to exposing ourselves to each other. But really, when it comes down to it, it's not that different to being with a guy. If anything, it's a lot more flattering. A teenage boy will be so damn grateful for everything you give him he'll make you feel like a goddess."

Katie laughed and Tricia flashed her another warm smile.

"Thanks, Tish," the younger girl beamed. "You always manage to make me feel better."

"That's what they tell me," Tricia said, with an arrogant wink. "Now, if you're not going to seduce me, get yourself back upstairs. I've got business to take care of."

And she shot Katie a flirtatious smirk. For the briefest of moments, the brunette looked disappointed, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a grateful smile.

"Sure," she murmured, getting up off the bed and straightening her pyjamas. "Thanks for the chat - and for being so cool about… well, you know."

"Don't mention it," Tricia replied.

She waited until the door had clicked shut before climbing properly into bed, closing the hangings on her four-poster with a lazy flick of her wand. Something told her Katie wasn't being entirely honest with herself; she was practically emitting waves of denial. However, she assured herself, as she kicked off her pyjama bottoms, it was really not her problem.

.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Note: Thanks again to everyone who has read, reviewed and followed/faved - and thank you to TeaPott for the info! I really never expected this to get any interest. Ok, so confession time: I made a __**grievous**__ error. After rechecking what little information there is in the books on Patricia Stimpson, I noted that she was in fact in Fred and George's year not the year above as I had believed. It doesn't make a vast difference to the story; Tricia's an October baby so she's still of wizarding age when she starts screwing her teacher. ;) And, if anything, it makes it easier for me to write more! But I have made a couple of changes. Just thought I'd let you all know in case you thought something was amiss. _

_This chapter's a little longer than the others. I got carried away. You'll see why. ;) Enjoy!_

**Chapter Warnings: gratuitous sexual scenes.**

* * *

Chapter Four

When Tricia awoke the next morning, it was to a dull ache in her thighs and unpleasant cramps in her belly. For a moment, she thought her erotic dreams perhaps had been real and her body was feeling the consequences of a delightfully rough tryst. However, as she sat up, she knew her symptoms to be of something different entirely and she let out a sound of irritation. It seemed a wild afternoon was off the card for the time being.

She skipped breakfast with her friends in favour of a long, hot bath, which helped to soothe both her ailments and her anger. Then, after donning a much longer skirt than she'd hoped to wear, she made her way down to the common room. Katie and Alicia were sitting by the fireplace, their heads bent over the latest issue of Witch Weekly.

"Hey Tish," Alicia called, a little too enthusiastically.

"Hey," was Tricia's weary reply. She flopped down into an empty chair and the two girls eyed her speculatively.

"What's with face?" asked Katie. "I thought you'd be excited - aren't you meeting with your mystery boy today?"

"Mystery boy?" Alicia repeated, her eyes darting between Katie and Tricia.

"Tish copped off with some boy last night," Katie explained, gleefully. "Although she won't tell anyone who he is," she added, with affectionate exasperation. "My money's on one of the Durmstrang lot. Why else would she be so keen to know where it's going? Long distance isn't exactly desirable."

Alicia managed to look surprised and disappointed and then jealous all in a matter of seconds, which Tricia found a bit ironic; Alicia had worked her way through half the boys in their year, despite professing her devotion to her fellow sixth-year.

"So you're seeing someone?" she asked, in a would-be casual voice.

"I'm not 'seeing' anyone," Tricia replied and she shot Katie a withering look. "We snogged a bit, got interrupted when a teacher walked in, that's all. I'm meant to be meeting him again today but… I got my period."

She scowled irritably. Katie, however, simply quirked an eyebrow.

"Whilst that sucks and all, how does that stop you meeting him?"

"It doesn't," replied Tricia sullenly. "But it does stop me getting what I want."

At ten to three, she began to make her way into the main castle for her 'detention'. She had, for propriety's sake, spent a little time making herself up - her black hair was arranged in tousled waves and she'd made her uniform look as provocative as she could decently manage - but she felt it was something of a wasted effort. Would he be disappointed, she wondered, when she would be unable to fulfill him? Would he be angry? Perhaps he'd turn her away for wasting his time. Or perhaps, she thought with a note of disgust, he'd want to crack on regardless. She could not say she was fond of the idea but that was possibly due to her experiences mostly being with women - maybe it was less unpleasant with a man? She hoped he would settle, for the time being, for his having own pleasure tended to.

Turning these thoughts over in her mind, Tricia was more than a little perplexed by the time she arrived at his office. She knocked on the door and heard him bid her enter. With a hint of trepidation, she let herself in and entered the dimly lit room. It was already darkening outside and the candles that sputtered in their brackets, coupled with a roaring fire, were the only source of light in the dungeon chamber. Tricia was surprised - she'd heard Snape only ever lit his fire for magical purposes. The Potions master himself was seated in a high-backed, leather chair before the hearth and was staring pensively into the flames. He glanced up as she approached him and, for a moment, Tricia felt her usual confidence falter. However, his sidelong glance and subtle smirk calmed her nerves immediately. He raised his wand and the office door locked behind her.

"Very prompt, Miss Stimpson," he praised her, his face impassive. "Now, come here."

He beckoned her imperiously. Tricia frowned; she did not like to be summoned like a pet and were it anyone else she would have refused; as it was him, it only served to excite her more. Obediently, she walked around his desk, stopping mere inches away from where he sat.

"Does this please you, Professor?" she murmured.

He did not answer her right away - instead, he rose from his chair and began to circle her like a vulture, his cool, black eyes surveying every inch of her appearance. Tricia felt her cheeks flush with the beginnings of excitement.

"Satisfactory," he replied silkily, after several moments; Tricia could tell he was smirking, though she could not see his face. "You understand why I have summoned you here, Miss Stimpson?"

"No, Professor," she answered innocently, as he stalked back into her line of sight, pausing in front of her. His expression gave little away but his eyes - and his body - seemed to radiate a powerful heat. It made her pulse quicken in anticipation.

"You do recall your shameful conduct at the Yule Ball last night? No?" he added, for Tricia had shaken her head - for some reason, her voice did not want to work. "How very forgetful of you, Miss Stimpson," Snape went on. "I shall have to remind you."

He lunged like a striking cobra, pushing her roughly up against his desk. Tricia's desire positively burst into flame and their mouths met with equal fervour. She could not understand it but she had never wanted someone so much in her life and the inherent illicitness of what they were doing only added to her sense of thrill. Moaning sweetly, she slid her tongue across his own, relishing the almost electrical jolts it sent through her body and imagining just how much trouble they would both be in if someone saw them like this. Her hands sought purchase on his back, pressing her curves tightly against his thin frame; there was no gown to restrict them this time and she was delighted to feel the beginnings of his arousal pressed firmly against her thigh. The friction made them both moan and his hand tangled in her hair tugged ever more urgently. Tricia's body was positively aflame with sensation: she could feel every hot breath ghosting over her skin, feel the fine silk of her underwear rubbing her sex, and the lace of her bra tormenting her overly-sensitive breasts. She whimpered against his lips. Never before had she wanted sex so badly - it was so unfair!

"Stop," she gasped finally, pushing him gently away from her. "I can't do this now."

"Oh?" panted Snape, his tone one of amusement. "You seem perfectly eager to me."

"Eagerness isn't the issue," she insisted. She turned her face away as he leant in for another kiss. His brows constricted in a frown.

"Then what is the issue, Tricia?" he asked. Tricia winced. Despite the fact that she could quite happily be screwing him right now, the thought of talking to him about her period was mortifying. Her arousal waned a little.

"I just can't," she muttered, blushing. "Not for another five to seven days, at least."

"What - oh. Oh, I see."

He turned away, looking in equal parts embarrassed and disappointed. Tricia's heart sank.

"But," she remedied, quickly, "That doesn't mean we both have to suffer."

She saw him pause and his eyes swiveled back to glance at her.

"Oh?" he ventured simply and she delighted in the return of his customary smirk. Adopting a sultry smile of her own, she slipped off the desk, moving predatorily towards him.

"Of course not, Professor," she purred. "In fact, I think you'll wholeheartedly enjoy what I have in mind."

"And what, precisely, do you have in mind, Miss Stimpson?"

His smirk became coy as he sank back into his chair. Tricia felt a rush of thrill that reignited her desire. She pulled out her wand and conjured up a bottle of absinthe and a single chalice.

"Relax, won't you?" she murmured, pressing a glass of the Slytherin green liquor into his hand. She waited for him to take a sip before planting a steamy kiss upon his lips, feeling the aniseed tingle of the absinthe on her own. The barest of moans resonated in his throat. Tricia began to kiss down his clothed chest and stomach. Part of her still could not believe her luck, could not believe that he was letting her do this. It was illicit and dangerous and thoroughly thrilling and, for some reason, his still being fully dressed only made the whole think more obscene. As her trail of heated kisses made its way past his waist, her intentions became clear and, not at all to her surprise, his objections came quickly.

"Tricia," he called out, challengingly, but the girl ignored him. Instead, she snuck her hand underneath his robes and grasped him firmly beneath his undergarments. The throaty gasp that followed made her own loins quiver with desperate need but she forced her own desire aside.

"What's wrong, Professor?" she asked, innocently. "Don't you want me to?"

She gave him a firm and deliberate squeeze under his robes and was pleased to note a very admirable, very hard girth beneath her fingers. He moaned again, loudly this time, and when Tricia glanced up she met dark eyes dripping with unbridled lust, and noted the faint flush of desire that graced his cheekbones. He said nothing; it was all the consent she needed. Tricia smiled and she lifted the front of his robes just enough to give her access. On her hands and knees, she freed him from his underwear and gave a gasp of delight at the monstrous organ she unearthed.

"Oh my," she murmured. "So it is true what they say about Slytherins…"

And with that, she took him into her mouth. It was an assault on her senses as well as his own. The sounds he emitted as her warm, wet orifice enveloped him were torturous and for all her womanising, the taste and smell of his most masculine regions made her ridiculously hot. It took her a moment to accustom to his size but as soon as she had done so, she began to suck and lick mercilessly, running her well-trained tongue up and around his shaft. He, for his part, leaned luxuriously back in his chair, bemoaning his pleasure as his drink sat forgotten in his hand. She thought, as she sucked on him, how magnificent this powerful cock would feel as he fucked her, how he would surely have her screaming like a banshee beneath his touch and she sucked him all the harder for it. His hips bucked eagerly, matching each thrust of her mouth with a thrust of his own and soon, his free hand began to fist desperately in her hair.

"Stop Tricia," he gasped breathlessly. "No more!"

But his words fell prey to helpless moans, his shaft now impossibly hard as Tricia's mouth coaxed him towards a climax. She knew he was near, knew he could not take much more. It took only a few more vigorous strokes of her slippery tongue and, sure enough, with a sound that was half-shout, half-strangled scream, she felt him come. Hot, salty semen filled her mouth and she swallowed it instinctively, relishing its tingling heat on the back of her throat. She sat back on her heels and watched as the last few waves of his orgasm washed over him. He was a magnificent sight, his face moist with a fine sheen of sweat, his usually pallid skin suffused with a delicate flush. His eyes were closed, his hair wild and his breath came in long, ragged gasps. She felt a rush of pride in knowing that she was the one responsible for his disarray.

"I hope that was an acceptable substitute," Tricia murmured, as she leant against his legs, running a playful finger across his exposed groin. A pearly droplet of ejaculate clung to her fingertip and she lifted it to her lips, licking it clean. Snape moaned hoarsely.

"A perfectly acceptable substitute, Miss Stimpson," he replied, breathless. He took Tricia by the hand and pulled her up into his lap, where their lips met once more. She wondered if he could taste himself on her and whether this aroused him as much as it did her. In his post-orgasmic haze, it was hard to tell. His hands roamed over her body with a languid grace, though the sounds he issued were much more urgent.

They remained that way for a short while, Tricia sitting in his lap, kissing him lazily as he pawed at her curves and murmured words of lewd intent into her ear. It was cruel of him to tease her but she would not deny she enjoyed it. The absinthe she had conjured sat forgotten on his desk - that was until she almost knocked it over in a panic. A bright, silvery something had burst unannounced through the solid wood of the door and bounded up to the desk. Upon coming closer, she could see that it was an ethereal looking bird which glided up to the desk and announced in Dumbledore's voice:

"Severus, I should like to see you in my office when you have a moment. It is a matter of some importance."

Tricia gave a little squeak of alarm and attempted to make herself look decent, though not before the bird had vanished into thin air.

"Relax," Snape assured her. "He cannot see you. It is a Patronus, nothing more. I am surprised you've never encountered one."

His tone was one of amusement, though he did get to his feet, smoothing his robes.

"Not one like that," she muttered, feeling silly. "I didn't take NEWT level Charms."

"A spell worth learning nevertheless," he instructed her and she did not miss the subtle resume of his professional demeanour. "I'm afraid I will have to depart, Miss Stimpson. As you heard, the Headmaster requires my presence."

"Sure," Tricia nodded, and she felt the first, dreaded prickle of awkwardness. This was not an encounter she could ever expected to have to tie up. "So, um, what now?" she asked, and she cursed herself at once for her inadequacy.

"'What now' indeed…" he murmured. A lazy sort of smirk, devoid of his usual sarcasm, spread across his face and Tricia felt slightly emboldened.

"Perhaps it would be better to wait until… things blow over?" she suggested, watching him closely for a reaction. His eyes widened, slightly and he gave her a thoroughly conspicuous once over before meeting her gaze.

"I think I can manage that," he replied. "It will allow me to work up a substantial appetite. Good, then I shall leave it to you to notify me. I am sure I don't need to tell you that discretion is essential?"

"Of course not," Tricia assented, rearranging her tousled hair. He had opened the door and was waiting patiently beside it for her to step out, his dark eyes shining. She ducked out into the darkened dungeon corridor; his gaze was on her the whole time whilst he locked the door behind him with his wand.

"Are you going to escort me back to the tower?" she asked teasingly, as they set off together for the main school.

"As I am headed that way, Miss Stimpson," he responded. "It shall allow me to practise restraining myself in your presence."

Tricia laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Thank you, thank you, thank you all for reading and following, reviewing and faving! I'm having so much fun with this and I'm glad you are too! If anyone's interested, I cover FSoS in my DeviantArt Journal, where you'll fine me under xx-Nefertari-xx. _It should be updated later this evening.

**Chapter Warnings: sexual themes, mature language.**

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Chapter Five

New Years' Eve came and passed uneventful for the first time in Tricia's life. Normally, she would have considered this a sign that something was severely wrong with the world. This year, however, she could hardly care less. On New Years' morning, she got the all-clear she had been eagerly waiting for and, after a pointless trip to the Great Hall, during which she could barely eat for anticipation, she scribbled a hasty note to slip under Snape's office door. The note was only a single line - "All is well. Awaiting instruction." - but she felt there was little point in agonising to invent something witty or seductive. It was succinct and, more importantly, subtle. More troublesome, though, was finding an excuse during the holidays to slip off down to the dungeons. They had no classes and her assignment had long since been finished. In the end, she made up an excuse about needing him to look over something before she handed it in.

"But you've never asked him to check your homework before!" Katie exclaimed, looking bewildered. "Why start now?"

"Because I failed miserably on the last essay and I need to compensate with this one," lied Tricia. "I don't even know if he will but I have to at least try."

"Rather you than me," muttered Katie, as Tricia had departed the cosy common room for the dungeons. Snape's office was empty, as she'd expected, so as there was no-one around, she simply slipped the bit of parchment under the door and left. She didn't bump into anyone on her way back save for Marcus Flint and he was too busy ogling her to question her whereabouts.

"Nice tits, Stimpson," he leered, licking his lips obscenely as she passed.

"Fuck off," she replied in bored voice. His laughter echoed down the corridor after him; Tricia rolled her eyes.

For the rest of the day, she waited eagerly for her summons from Snape. She found it hard to concentrate on her Ancient Runes essay and she didn't even bother going down to the Great Hall again for food. After changing what she could of her outfit and her makeup several times, she opted to sit with the girls and join in with their "PlayWitch" rating game.

When eight 'o'clock came and went and still she had heard nothing, she resigned herself to the thought that he'd changed his mind. Frowning, she threw down her magazine with a mighty slap, making the other girls jump.

"I'm sorry, do you have an objection to making Jason Hexx number nine?" asked Katie, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"What? Oh, that - no. I don't really care."

She turned away from her friends, trying to fight back the mixture of anger and rejection that was making her throat tight.

"What's the matter with you today?" Katie sighed, relinquishing her own copy of PlayWitch. "You've been weird and restless all day, not eating… What's going on?"

Tricia sighed and regarded her friends seriously. She wondered whether or not she should tell them - not everything of course but enough so that they might understand. She hadn't intended to but she couldn't see the harm, providing she stuck to her established story.

"All right," she conceded, "I'll tell you. When I met with my guy the other day-"

"Does he have a name, this boy?" Alicia asked.

"He does but I can't pronounce it," lied Tricia quickly. "I've just been calling him 'babe' and he responds to it."

"So it is one of the Durmstrang lot!" Angelina Johnson gasped.

"I knew it," nodded Katie sagely, looking pleased with herself.

"Yeah yeah, you're a genius. Will you just listen? I met with him after the ball and we got a bit _busy_ but we couldn't go all the way because… well, you know." The girls nodded sympathetically in unison and Tricia proceeded. "So, instead of jumping into the really heavy stuff too quickly, we decided to wait until everything was back to normal. I contacted him this morning to let him know we were all set but I haven't heard a word back from him."

There was a momentary silence in which the girls all looked puzzled, clearly thinking her predicament over. Then, Alicia suggested,

"Maybe he can't read English?"

"No," Tricia sighed. "I know he can."

"Maybe he's just not had the chance to sneak off and see you?" ventured Angelina. "You've seen their Headmaster, he doesn't look like the easy-going type."

"He could still write back though," muttered Tricia glumly.

"Not if he's been caught," Katie offered, and she put her arm around her. "I wouldn't worry about it, Tish. He's probably not had chance to get back to you yet, for some reason or another. Give him some time."

The younger Gryffindor gave her a comforting hug. Tricia forced a smile but she couldn't quite shake the thought that maybe he'd changed his mind after all.

It seemed at first as though Tricia's instincts had been correct. For the next few days, she saw next to nothing of Severus Snape. He turned up to meals of course - to not do so would be too conspicuous - but he ate quickly and quietly, talking little to the staff and avoiding all eye contact with the students. Outside of the Great Hall, it was as though he did not exist. Whilst he was certainly not known for being a sociable creature, he could still be caught stalking the corridors from time to time or conversing quietly with his colleagues in the hallways. Now, however, the most that Tricia saw of him was the lingering hems of a black cloak as he whipped round corners and down corridors at a remarkable pace. She was beginning to think, with a pang of disappointment, that he was regretting his actions. That was until the first potions class after Christmas, when something highly unusual happened.

Tricia had been dreading the class since New Years' Day. She was not looking forward to facing him again in his usual capacity and having him blank her as though nothing had occurred. Yet the lesson soon arrived and as Tricia took up her usual seat, it seemed he intended to do just that. He addressed her no differently than usual, looked at her no more often than he had to and when he did, it was with his usual sneer of disdain that he reserved solely for his Gryffindor charges. He did not behave at all like a man who had kissed her not nights before, a man who had nibbled her lips and moaned wantonly as she'd blown him. Just as Tricia had given up hope, it happened. He was conducting his usual sweep of the classroom, sneering at the feebler concoctions and brusquely praising the best. When he reached Tricia's station, he bent down low over her cauldron and, in a manner that only she could see, dropped something into the mixture. At once, it began to curdle and the colour changed from its intended lime green to a putrid, sickly yellow. Tricia could only stare as he straightened up, his black eyes unfathomable and his face wearing his signature disdainful smirk.

"An appalling effort, Miss Stimpson," he declared, and his handful of sixth year Slytherins sniggered. They had not seen him sabotage her potion, of this Tricia was sure, but they were always pleased to see a Gryffindor humiliated in his class. "Is your brain still on holiday, I wonder?" the potion's master continued, in poisonous tones. "What a pity. Perhaps detention will teach you to concentrate more in my class. My office, eight o'clock… presuming you can summon the wit to remember where that is."

Somewhere at the front of the class, the Slytherins were guffawing raucously but Tricia was not paying them the slightest bit of attention. Instead, she was staring at Snape. There had been something in his eyes as he'd ordered her to his office - not his usual vindictive pleasure but something else, something that made Tricia's breath catch in her throat and a pleasurable tingle run down her back: lust. She left his classroom with poor marks and very filthy thoughts in her head.

By eight 'o'clock, however, her excitement had long-since faded into confusion. Why, if he was still interested, had he waited so long to get back to her? Surely, even if he was busy, he could have let her know? She wondered if he had done it on purpose to make her worry, to have her doubt herself. She rather hoped not; whilst she was no angel, she didn't know if she could give herself to someone who'd be that cruel.

She found herself standing outside his office door without realising how she'd gotten there. Her feet, it seemed, had memorised the route. Hands were somewhat numb and she found it difficult to knock firmly enough upon the wooden surface. An unremarkable call of "Enter" met her ears and she tentatively obeyed.

Snape was sitting behind his desk again, not working but gazing pensively into the hearth, a glass of what appeared to be port half empty in his hand. It was a moment before he looked up and Tricia noted the rather glazed look to his eyes - this was certainly not his first glass.

"I hope you're planning to change that god-awful mark you gave me in class," she said, cautiously. "I'm not the expert of course, but I'm pretty damn certain I had it right before you chose to sabotage it."

It was the first time she tried to joke with him and she was not sure how it would go down. To her relief, he gave her a slight smirk as he sipped from his glass.

"You had," he admitted. "Much to my chagrin, you excel most of even my own students at brewing."

"I know," Tricia smiled, "Though I believe that's because I had the good sense to listen to you from day one."

"Then you certainly are a rarity," he murmured and Tricia laughed her first true laugh in days.

"This is a most peculiar detention, Professor," she noted. "I came expecting insults and punishments, not praise and, dare I say it, compliments?"

"You know perfectly well I did not invite you here to punish you," said Snape shortly, draining his glass and setting it heavily on the desk. "We need to talk, Miss Stimpson."

Tricia felt her stomach drop into her feet and her nerves returned tenfold. "We do," she murmured.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

Yay, finally, some more of the good stuff! Seriously, if I had my own way, it'd all be like this but then it wouldn't be so much of a story, more a spilling of my messed up brain onto the unsuspecting internet. I hope you enjoy it. I got carried away again but you'll soon see why. I couldn't let Snape have the last laugh now, could I? ;)

I will be posting some thoughts on the implications of this chapter on my Deviant Journal, and I invite you to venture yours, if you like! Details of how to find it are in the notes of Chapter Five.

Also, as a brief warning, I _may_ not be able to post a chapter next week. I have a lot of surplus Mummy duties this week what with party planning, cake-baking etc on top of other issues BUT I shall do my very best! One way or another, I will let you know!

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**Chapter Warnings: mature language, sexual scenes.**

Chapter Six

"Sit," Snape commanded, though without conviction, indicating one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. Tricia perched on the very edge and she waited for him to say something, her heart pounding all the while. When, after a minute he had ventured nothing, she chose to break the silence.

"After New Years," she whispered. "It seemed like you avoiding me."

"For a little while, I was," he admitted, still staring into the fire, his black eyes glassy, reflecting the dancing orange light.

"Why?" Tricia asked, simply, and she was surprised by the sudden hurt she felt beneath her anxiety.

"It is not every day I comport myself in such a manner with a student, Miss Stimpson," he responded, slowly. "It made me rather question my _loyalties."_

His choice of wording struck her as odd and Tricia suddenly had a horrible revelation.

"Oh God, you're not married are you?" she breathed, clasping her hands to her mouth. The man before her made a peculiar noise - part snort, part laugh.

"No, I am certainly not married," he answered darkly, and he spat out the last word as though it somehow offended him. There was another moment of heavy silence before he finally looked up at her, his expression completely unreadable. Still, though, he ventured no reply.

"I'm going to take that as an 'I don't want to talk about it'," Tricia said, getting to her feet. He frowned and made to interrupt but she held up her hand. "Fine. I'm ok with that," she said, softly, as she began to walk around the desk. "Maybe you just need a little convincing."

She stopped in front of him, her own blue eyes locking onto his black ones as she slipped into his lap. There was a spark glittering there and she was determined to get it burning again. Unfaltering, she leaned into him and stole a kiss from his slightly parted lips. Relief flooded through her as she heard him sigh and felt his lips move against her own. It wasn't unsure but neither was it the rough and fiery snog they'd shared on Boxing day. This was something new, something gentle and explorative. She could taste the sweet and heady port on his tongue as it languidly caressed her own. His hands tangled in her hair, cradling her head, and he nipped lightly at her plump, flushed lips. Tricia felt desire blossom within her, making her thighs quiver and her loins begin to ache. Yet she was in no need to rush things this time; she wanted to get thoroughly acquainted first. So she followed his lead and let her hands run down across his clothed chest, noting the surprising firmness of his slender form, then up his neck, trailing her fingers across his skin. He shivered slightly as her thumb brushed against his pulse and she smirked.

"Behave," he admonished in a whisper when she did it again, though she could feel him smirking against her lips.

"Or what?" she retorted and she coupled another caress with a teasing roll of her hips.

"Keep pushing and you'll find out," was his breathy reply before he crushed their mouths together again, hard enough to bruise. Tricia moaned and he seized the opportunity the thrust his tongue roughly past her lips. It seemed his fire had returned and Tricia was only too happy to welcome it. She grasped at the front of his robes and began to tussle with the fastenings at his throat, eager to expose as much flesh as she possibly could. He followed suit and quickly made short work of her blouse, revealing her smooth, creamy chest. A ragged sound of approval met her ears, muffled by their kiss, and he caressed her cleavage almost thoughtfully. Tricia, meanwhile, had managed to open his collar and she pulled away from his mouth to trail her kisses downwards; over his jaw, then the nape of his neck, pausing to nip and suckle gently at his pulse. He hissed and the hands on her chest gave a firm push, breaking their contact.

"What? What's wrong?" Tricia asked breathlessly, looking up into his face. His expression was inscrutable, his eyes dark and flashing.

"I did warn you, Miss Stimpson," he murmured coolly, and Tricia was momentarily alarmed by his demeanour. Next second, though, he was smirking as her dumped her unceremoniously on his desk, standing between her parted thighs. Tricia's chest heaved with anticipation and she watched with wide eyes as he leaned over her, one hand on the desk, the other snaking beneath her skirt. Her breath hitched and she made the smallest of sounds in her throat at he reached her underwear and tugged.

"Charming," he smirked, as he momentarily eyed the slip of satin before tossing it over his shoulder. Tricia flushed. For someone who had seemed so unsure, so inexperienced just days ago, she was surprised at how suddenly composed and controlling he was. It was a welcome turn of events and she felt her body quiver with mounting hunger as he delved between her legs once more. His eyes never left hers and she saw the glimmer of desire there when his finger found their mark. Smirking, he teased the hot, wet entrance of her sex with a single digit. Tricia gasped with delight.

"Eager, Miss Stimpson?" he asked, and he plunged his finger deep inside of her. She moaned hoarsely, arching her back against the wood.

"Oh God," she panted, pushing desperately down on the invading digit. "More…"

He hummed his approval and she writhed as another finger slipped in beside the first, scissoring and stretching the sodden passage.

"So wet," he murmured, as the thrust shallowly. "So enticing… tell me, Miss Stimpson, whilst we still have sense enough to speak - will we be needing a prophylactic?"

Tricia understood his meaning through her haze of desire and managed to shake her head.

"No," she panted. "I took my potion this morning, as usual. Please… Professor…"

A lustful moan escaped him at the use of his title and at once, his lips fell upon her chest, kissing, sucking and biting at her shapely breasts in a passionate frenzy. Tricia gasped once more, impaling herself on his fingers again and again until he finally removed them, holding them to her lips for her to lick clean. She obeyed willingly, sucking them as eagerly as she had done his cock.

"Oh, you slut," he groaned, though his tone was one of admiration rather than admonishment.

"So they say," Tricia smiled. "And as cruel as schoolyard rumours can be, they often have a basis in fact…"

He smirked, fixing her with his smouldering black stare.

"I am aware," he whispered possessively. "And I shall be rather disappointed if I've been misinformed."

Their lips met again in a hot, deep kiss and, though she couldn't see, she could hear him fiddling with the fastenings of his robes. Next moment, he was pressing against her entrance, hard and insistent. Pleasure tinged with pain flooded her senses as he eased into her. She moaned, arching her back; he swore under his breath. He felt incredible, just as she'd imagined he would - thick and long and hard, challenging her to accommodate him. He gave her a moment to adjust, his breath coming in shallow gasps, and then began to move. There was no teasing here, no pretending. His pace was rough and fast, relaying his need. Tricia didn't care. She felt as though the world was unravelling around her, her very consciousness fraying. For days she'd ached to be fucked by him and here they were, rutting like beasts on his neatly polished desk. She met each questing thrust with one of her own, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Yes," she panted. "Oh yes, Professor, fuck me!"

His answering growl sent a delightful shiver up her spine. Savagely, he bore down upon her naked chest, assaulting her nipples as he screwed her with animalistic vigour. A hoarse cry escaped her and she impaled herself on his unyielding cock ever-the-more. Somewhere in the lower depth of her belly, she could feel the sweet, torturous build-up of her orgasm. It drowned out the world around her, dominating her every thought. There was no school, no rules, no teachers or students: there was only she and him and their all-consuming lust, rising stroke by stroke to a beautiful crescendo. Every nerve in her body was singing. She couldn't remember a time when she'd ever needed this more.

His pace, if at all possible, presently began to quicken and his barely restrained grunts became vocal shouts of pleasure. Tricia took a moment to admire him, his eyes closed and his mouth open in ecstasy. His usually pallid complexion was rosy with heat and need and effort. It was utterly delicious to see him so undone.

Her own completion was nearing. She was damn close to losing her mind and she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. It took only the rough swipe of his thumb over a raw nipple and she screamed, her walls tightening around him as she came hard. A choked, guttural sound followed and she knew he'd found his own release. He thrust jerkily through the waves of his orgasm before collapsing, panting, onto her chest.

For several long moments - that could have been hours, for all she was aware - Tricia knew nothing but the sweet, glow of pleasure that followed her orgasm. She revelled in it, letting it wash over her body like a wave, listening to her lover's soft breath beside her ear. She was euphoric and she couldn't resist the breathless laugh that escaped her. His lips quirked in a responding smile that she felt (rather than saw) against her skin.

"Amused, are we?"

"I'm a lot of things right now," she replied, weakly. "Amused isn't one of them."

He gave a low, husky chuckle and she caught a glimpse of his satisfied smirk before he claimed her mouth again, deeply and languorously. With a responding moan, she curled her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. He tasted deliciously sweet and she could smell the delicate fragrance of her own perfume on his glowing skin. There was the tiniest hint of raw discomfort as he eased himself out of her and then he was lifting her, carrying her backwards until they both sank back into his chair. Tricia flopped forward on his chest and they stayed that way for a while - her sitting in his lap, listening to his heartbeat growing slower as he idly stroked her hair.

"So, do I have you convinced?" she asked, eventually, and she felt his chest quake beneath her with his laugh.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "You make a good argument, Miss Stimpson."

"I aim to please, Professor," she smiled, and she kissed the sliver of bare chest his open collar revealed. He growled appreciatively and Tricia could not resist a smirk. "Am I imagining things," she teased, "Or do you like me calling you that?"

There was a brief moment of silence and she felt him still beneath her, as though he'd stopped breathing.

"I shouldn't," he answered, after a beat, "but I do."

Tricia's smirk widened. "Kinky," she murmured. "I'll make sure to remember that."

She sat up and pulled away from his chest so she could look him in the eyes. "Does that mean I'm to expect an evaluation of my performance…_Sir_?"

A soft, lilting leer passed across his face and he arched an eyebrow so suggestively that she contemplated ravishing him all over again.

"I think that would be beneficial to your progress," he acquiesced, quietly. "Now, let's see shall we…" He paused thoughtfully and, whilst pondering his response, he retrieved his wand from his robes and summoned them each a glass of wine. "Drink it slowly," he commanded. "If I send you back drunk, there'll be suspicion all round. With regards to your performance, Miss Stimpson, your execution was exemplary. It is in your preparation that there lies room for improvement."

He smiled darkly. Tricia felt a pang of annoyance - she hadn't expected him to _really _criticise her. Where was he going with this?

"I have particular tastes, Tricia," he continued, and there was a rush of thrill at his rare use of her first name. "From now on, when I summon you, you are to wear black lace rather than satin undergarments. Satin is far too virginal a fabric for what we are doing. And I should like you to wear stockings. As much as I enjoy bare flesh"- he paused, raking a hand pointedly up her thigh - "such is a gift I prefer to unwrap."

Isabel swallowed hard. She wanted to be annoyed at his sudden descent into pickiness but that demanding tone, his authoritative demeanor, was just too sexy.

"Anything else?" she whispered. "Perfume? Make-up? Would you like me to get a tattoo? Dye my hair?"

He smirked, twirling a lock of her raven hair around a thin, pale finger. A dark look crossed his features momentarily - a hungry expression, full of longing and need and a hint of torment.

"You would suit it, I think," he murmured. "Red and lustrous…." He cleared his throat abruptly and seemed to gather himself from whatever dark place he had ventured to. "But no, no that is unnecessary."

"I can do red," Tricia shrugged. "I like a little change now and then."

Snape seemed genuinely surprised. "You would be willing?" he asked her, incredulously.

Would she? Something about this struck a dark and discordant chord in the back of her mind. She had the horrible feeling that things had just gotten more complicated than they seemed. Yet, in spite of her better judgment, she couldn't bring herself to say no to him. She wanted to please him.

"I would," she answered softly. "If you want me to."

"Yes," was his quick and quiet reply.

"Then consider it done."

His eyes widened just a fraction and suddenly he was kissing her again, hard and fierce, crushing him against her. Tricia made a noise of surprise before surrendering to his passion, delighting in his forceful hands and insistent tongue. He claimed her mouth roughly before pulling himself away, flushed and panting.

"Oh, I would gladly have you again, Miss Stimpson" he growled, "Right here in this chair. But I fear we are running out of time. So let me be brief." He pushed her away, holding her at arm's length so he could look sternly into her eyes. "Lace not satin. Stockings at all times. And you will cease your cavorting with your fellow housemates. I would have you to myself, is that clear?"

Tricia nodded mutely. She had no idea he would be so commanding, so possessive; it was just too sexy. Why could he not just take her again? Surely the point of them fucking was so she didn't have to back upstairs wanting?

"And you will not touch yourself," he added, wickedly. "I want you eager, Miss Stimpson, at all times."

"That's not fair!" Tricia exclaimed.

"I know," he smirked. "Such is the way of the world. But I assure you, you will be rewarded for your obedience."

"And if I disobey?" she asked.

"Then you shall be punished, naturally" he stated, and his black eyes gleamed with dark promise. Tricia's pulse quickened. She thought back to the 'penitence' incident on Christmas Eve; it seemed he'd taken her inappropriate thoughts on board.

"How?" she breathed.

"Now that would be telling. I shall leave it to your _capable_ imagination."

He smiled and leaned in to steal another kiss. He was gentler this time, almost tender; his hand cradled the back of Tricia's neck, caressing her hair, and his tongue lapped teasingly at her lips. Tricia sighed and tried to coax a little more out of him but he merely pulled away, smirking.

"I think that will do," he whispered. "You may go, Miss Stimpson."

"What, just like that?" she exclaimed, crestfallen.

"Just like that," he nodded and there was an undisputable air of finality to his words. Tricia scowled.

"As you wish, sir," she huffed.

"Good girl. I shall send word when the time is right for our next… meeting."

Tricia nodded irritably as she slipped off his lap and began to redress herself. It was no simple feat; her legs were like jelly, her thighs quivering, and she was very aware of his eyes upon her, watching her every move like a hungry panther. More than once she fumbled with her buttons and she could feel his smirk without even looking up. When she was finally decent, she glanced across to him and found him reclining in his chair, swirling another glass of port thoughtfully in his hand.

"Better," he nodded. "You look less like you have just been ravaged by a-"

"Disreputable potions master?" she supplied, petulantly. Snape simply smirked all the more.

"Quite," he murmured. "Now, run along, Miss Stimpson, it is getting late. I will send for you soon enough."

Tricia sighed. It was clear he had made up his mind. Whilst she'd hardly expected to spend the night with him, she hadn't anticipated being tossed out into the cold like a cheap whore either. If anything, that was her job! She muttered a terse "Goodnight" as she turned for the door. Then, out of the corner of her eye, spotted something that made her insides squirm with glee: her underwear. She had completely forgotten to put them back on. It would be stupid to leave them there, she decided – especially when she could use them to her advantage. So she sauntered casually over to them and bent, straight-legged, to retrieve them. She felt her skirt hitch inevitably up, the unpleasant rush of cold air to her naked backside; she heard his sharp intake of breath as he undoubtedly got a gratuitous shot of her arse.

"Oops," she exclaimed, in exaggerated innocence. "Looks like I forgot something." She twirled the tiny garment on her fingers and cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Snape was staring, wide-eyed and cheeks pink, as though he could not believe her audacity. Triumph bloomed warm and pleasant in Tricia's chest but she held it at bay to deliver her parting shot. "Satin," she murmured, thoughtfully. "Guess I won't be needing these anymore." And with that, she tossed the panties over her shoulder, where they landed silently on his desk. His expression of mingled arousal and outrage was one Tricia would treasure for weeks. Grinning, she breezed out of his office, laughing to herself as she heard him cursing her name.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Once again guys, thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and faving. It means a lot to me! :D You guys rock. Hard!_

_I loved writing this chapter. In fact, I love writing these scenes almost as much as I love writing the smut. It's so much fun to drag Hogwarts down into the real world lol. I can't imagine how much JK must have struggled to write a story set in a high school but aimed at children and families. High school is not a child-friendly place! It's dirty and gritty, cruel and corrupt and I fucking love it!_

_Ahem. Anyway, hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, sexual references.**

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**Chapter Seven**

It was a busy week for the older students of the castle. The staff seemed united in the thought that the Christmas holidays had been sufficient enough for taking it easy and wasted no time in immersing them again in their studies. Tricia found herself inundated with so much homework that a small part of her - a _very_ small part - was pleased not to hear from Snape for the rest of the week. She had half-expected some sort of reprimand for her behaviour on Tuesday night but it seemed he had taken her high-spirits in his stride. Though mildly disappointed that she was not to be subjected to some wicked, sexual torment, it was a blessing in disguise. She had no idea how she'd have managed three essays and a runes translation by Friday if he had.

The abundance of work also meant that she hadn't had chance for any personal projects. Despite ordering the potion to alter her hair colour the very night she'd returned from 'detention', it wasn't until after lunch on Saturday that Tricia had time to use it. As it was the middle of the day, the Gryffindor girls' bathroom was mercifully empty; the last thing she needed if this went wrong was an audience. Tentatively, she set down her wash-bag beside the sink and glanced at the potion. A lilac label on the elaborately crafted bottle read - "_Tugwood's Tinctures No. 17 - Spiced Pumpkin. Transforms your hair in a matter of minutes!". _Snape hadn't been especially specific on the shade of red he liked so Tricia had chosen a darker, more demure shade of auburn. Hopefully, she thought, it would be less drastic and attract less attention, though considering her hair was as black as night, it seemed unlikely.

She stripped out of her clothing, donning instead her second favourite bathrobe and a pair of dragon-skin gloves, just in case she managed to spill anything. Then, with a nervous glance at her reflection in the mirror, she began to apply the potion. It was thick and surprisingly warm and it smelled rather like gingerbread. She worked it into her long, raven-coloured tresses, taking extra care not to miss any; black and ginger stripes was a ridiculous look if you weren't a tiger. _Though you may well look ridiculous anyway_, she reminded herself. She had no idea whether she'd even suit having red hair, let alone like it. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd agreed to dye it, other than an inexplicable desire to please him. From the moment he'd suggested it, she'd had suspicions that his eagerness stemmed from more than just a simple fetish. That look in his eyes, on his face, when he'd pictured it was alarming and should have had her running for the hills. But she couldn't help herself - she wanted to see how wild things could get if she played along with his game.

It took only five minutes for the potion to work. By the time she'd run a quick hair-removal charm over her legs and glanced up to pluck her eyebrows, her shock of jet black waves had turned a rich, autumnal auburn. It was quite the transformation and Tricia could not help but stare at herself. Once she'd gotten over the initial shock, she didn't actually mind it. It suited her fair complexion and made her pale blue eyes look deeper by comparison. Biting her lip, she twirled a damp lock around her finger, weighing it up. Yes, she rather liked it. But would he?

After drying her hair and redressing, Tricia went straight to her dorm to put her toiletries away. Katie was sitting on Alicia's bed, their heads bent close, almost whispering. Whatever they were discussing, they fell silent on Tricia's entry, both springing apart at the intrusion. Neither of them seemed to recognise her at first but then Katie gave a squeal of delight. Alicia, however. gawked openly at her.

"Morgana's tits, your hair!" she gasped. "Tricia, what have you done to it?"

"It looks amazing!" Katie beamed. "It's different but somehow it really suits you!"

She bounded up from the bed, circling Tricia like a hawk to get a better look. "Oh, it's lovely," she affirmed. "Why didn't you say you were dying it, I could have helped you?"

"Spur of the moment thing," shrugged Tricia, as she set down her wash bag and bathrobe at the foot of her own bed. "I saw the advert in Witch Weekly and decided I fancied a change."

"It was fine the way it was," Alicia muttered, but both Tricia and Katie pretended not to have heard her.

"Are you sure?" Katie went on, and she quirked an eyebrow suspiciously. "It's got nothing to do with your mystery boy, has it?"

Tricia tried her best to keep her features passive, though she was in fact rather taken aback. Curse Katie and her guile! The girl was harder to deceive than… well, Snape himself. Hoping she didn't look too guilty, she shook her head.

"Of course not," she scoffed and she was pleased to note that Katie looked relieved.

"Oh good," she sighed. "My sister warned me about men like that. You don't want to be with a man who tries to change you. Nothing good can come of it."

"Yeah, 'cos you're an expert in men now," Alicia snorted.

"I never said that! It's just something I was told."

"Funny, that's not what it sounded like!"

"In what world-"

But Tricia was no longer listening to their bickering. A sickly, twisting discomfort was knotting in her stomach. Was that what Snape was doing - trying to change her? Was he trying to mould her to his own secret ideals? She couldn't see how. _It's just a hair colour_, she reminded herself. _He's not asking you to pledge your allegiance to the Ministry or anything. And he didn't force you to dye it! _Technically, he hadn't even asked her to, if she remembered rightly. No, it was silly to worry about something so trivial. She was catering to his fancy; the lace knickers and stockings hadn't been an issue, so why should hair colour?

Tricia shook herself from her troubling thoughts and glanced to her friends. She was pleased to see they had ceased their arguing. In fact, they were now snogging furiously against the post of Alicia's bed, their hands groping each other's backsides. Tricia cocked an eyebrow, sighed and stalked out of the room. _Sucks to be Lee Jordan right now_, she thought sympathetically.

She spent the afternoon with Angelina in the common room, watching the Weasley twins demonstrate their new products to raucous applause. Katie did not reappear until just before dinner and when she did, she was alone. Tricia shot her a pointed look but her friend only shook her head vigorously.

"Are we going down to dinner then?" she asked, in a would-be-casual tone.

"Sure," Angelina sighed, gathering up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I hope there's something decent, I'm starving. Where's Alicia?"

"Not hungry," Katie answered, quickly. "She says she'll go down later."

"Fair enough," shrugged Angelina, and she led the way towards the portrait hole. Tricia took her time in following, catching Katie by her elbow and subjecting her to an inquisitive glare.

"Seriously, what is going on with you two?" she muttered. "What about Lee?"

"Shh!" Katie hissed, flapping her hands as a signal for quiet. "Not now, alright?"

She shot Tricia an exasperated look and hurried on to catch up with Angelina, no doubt to avoid answering her questions. Tricia frowned at the back of Katie's head: what was _with_ her lately? The girl really needed to make her mind up.

The Entrance Hall was quieter than usual with it being the weekend; students had had all day free to kick back and fill up on junk and there wasn't the usual post-school-day clamour for sustenance. As they descended the marble staircase, they passed only a small gaggle of Hufflepuffs, the Beauxbatons girls and a group of Ravenclaw fifth years.

"I love it when it's this quiet," Angelina grinned. "No fighting for first pick."

They crossed the Entrance Hall at a leisurely pace just as a pack of Slytherins emerged from the dungeons. Tricia noticed, with a start of surprise, that their housemaster was with them. Her heart sped up and her stomach gave a lurch of anticipation. She caught Snape's eye as their paths crossed and, for a moment, it was as though he didn't even see her. However, in the time it had taken him to blink, he had performed a rather conspicuous double take, his eyes wide with disbelief. A blush crept across Tricia's cheeks and she tried her utmost not to smile.

"Nice hair, Stimpson," sneered Montague. "Didn't know you were part Weasley."

He and his Slytherin cronies guffawed unattractively. Tricia didn't give a toss; she was too busy watching Snape, who was now observing her from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. He only glanced away once he and his students had passed into the Great Hall, parting to approach their respective tables. Angelina glowered at his retreating back.

"I know he's a Slytherin," she muttered, darkly, "But he's still a teacher. He shouldn't let them get away with that."

"Are you surprised?" Tricia murmured absently. Her thoughts were still on him, on his expression. Had that been a good reaction? She wasn't entirely sure. He was a notoriously difficult person to read, after all, and it seemed getting into his robes had offered her no further insight.

She and the girls stalked past the Slytherins and took up their places at the Gryffindor table. Any appetite Tricia had had was now long gone. Even the sight of her favourite meal - a rich, French beef stew made with red wine - was not enough to tempt her taste buds. She helped herself to a bowl of crisp, winter salad instead and resolved herself to pushing it around her plate. Katie and Angelina were talking quidditch, a subject she'd never really followed, so she zoned out, letting her gaze drift surreptitiously over to the staff table. Snape wasn't eating either. In fact, he looked about as close to being agitated as Tricia had ever seen him in public. His jaw was set in a hard line and he seemed on the verge of jumping out of his seat. Professor Flitwick was trying to engage him in conversation but it was quite obvious that he was not paying attention. His fathomless eyes were roaming over the room and, sure enough, they soon found hers. Tricia almost gasped aloud at the searing heat she saw there. It made her pulse quicken and the blood rush to her cheeks. _Definitely a good reaction_, she noted with delight, as she coyly lowered her lashes. When she next dared to glance up, his eyes were no longer on her, though there was no mistaking the tiny smile that curved his thin, pale lips.

"What are grinning at?" Angelina chastised, interrupting her train of thoughts. "You can't tell me you think it's a good thing?"

Tricia blinked owlishly: she had no idea what was going on. Sitting on her left, Katie simply laughed and shook her head.

"I think her mind was elsewhere," she chuckled, with a suggestive bounce of her neatly plucked eyebrows. Angelina rolled her eyes, though she was smiling all the same.

"You really do have a one track mind, Tish," she sighed. "I was just saying what a shame it is that we've not had quidditch practice this year. Not that the tournament isn't fun," she added, fairly, "but the team's going to be pretty rusty come next September."

"Why don't you just schedule a couple of sessions anyway?" Katie suggested. "I'm sure if you ask McGonagall, she won't-"

But precisely what McGonagall wouldn't do, Tricia did not find out. A small, though incredibly surly-looking, Slytherin second year had just approached the Gryffindor table and was scowling mulishly at their backs. When they turned, bewildered, to face him, he slapped a neatly folded square of parchment down on the table and stalked away, seeming thoroughly disgruntled. The three girls exchanged bemused expressions. Katie reached for the missive, examining it closely.

"It's addressed to you," she remarked, waving the sealed parchment under Tricia's nose. Tricia took it from her. Sure enough, scrawled hastily across the front in a familiar, spidery hand, was her own full name. Her curiosity rampant, she proceeded to tear it open and her eyes fell upon its contents.

_Miss Stimpson, _

_Atrocious as your memory is, I deemed it fit to remind you of your detention with me this evening. I expect you in my office at 8'o'clock sharp. You would do well to come prepared or thus further risk my displeasure. _

_Professor S. Snape. _

"You've got detention with him again?" Katie breathed, having apparently read the entire thing over Tricia's shoulder. "What have you done to piss him off?"

"I wish I knew," Tricia murmured and it took a great deal of effort not to sound excited. She risked another brief glance at the staff table. He was not watching her this time – in fact, he seemed to be purposefully looking the opposite way – but there was no mistaking his smug smirk. Tricia's body began to tingle with anticipation. Was a simple change of hair colour responsible for this, riling him up this much? It was a risky move, inventing a detention on the spot and passing her notes in public. _He must really want some_, Tricia thought with great satisfaction, as she folded the parchment and slipped it into her pocket.

"Another detention with Snape," Angelina sighed, spearing a carrot on the end of her fork. "McGonagall is going to go apeshit."

"Totally worth it," Tricia muttered and she smiled to herself as she tucked into her dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Hey, look at that, it's Thursday again! :D Time for some Slytherin sluttiness, don't you think? Oh yeah. ^_^_

_Again, I'd just like to thank everyone who's reading and following, favouriting and reviewing this story. =) I'm really loving your input and I promise you, I'm taking it all on board!_

_This is another long chapter - I hope that's ok! I thought about splitting it but it would really mess with the cohesion I think. So here you have it, a big old hunk of Snapey goodness. Or badness, depending how you view it… Enjoy!_

_PS - I'll be putting up another journal entry about this chapter on Deviant Art. If anyone would like to read/give feedback, look for me under xx-nefertari-xx. 3_

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, sexual scenes.**

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Chapter Eight

It was with a happy spring in her step that Tricia left the Great Hall that evening. Snape had already vanished by the time she, Angelina and Katie had finished and Alicia had never turned up at all. Tricia, however, couldn't care less. Scandal and gossip could wait – tonight, she was going to get laid and she couldn't contain her glee. It wasn't until Katie pointed out that, for a girl facing detention with Hogwarts' most notoriously nasty teacher, she seemed remarkably chipper, that she decided to try and contain herself.

The girls wandered idly back up to their dormitories through the near-empty castle. Katie and Angelina were discussing quidditch again so Tricia hung back, letting her mind wander. She contemplated what she was going to wear for him. Of course, the lace panties and stockings were now mandatory, not that she minded, but there was still a little room for her to be creative. She had a scandalous cut-away bra that she was sure would drive him wild. And then there was the corset she'd had owl-ordered in – emerald green satin with a black lace trim, guaranteed to get any Slytherin's blood racing. She was just deliberating which one to choose when Professor McGonagall appeared in front of them, her robes swishing in agitation.

"Miss Stimpson," she called, briskly. "I'm glad I caught you. It appears that the message I sent out has gone astray – I'm calling a prefects meeting this evening with the other houses. I've already spoken to Jordan. I need you in my office at half past seven."

Tricia tried not to look too aghast as her stomach dropped to her feet. "But Professor!" she exclaimed. "I can't. I… I've got detention tonight."

"Detention?" Professor McGonagall's beady eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared in obvious irritation. "Who with, Patricia?"

Tricia swallowed, glancing over her head of house's shoulder to her friends. Katie was shaking her head whilst Angelina merely looked sympathetic.

"Professor Snape," she admitted eventually, with a sigh. McGonagall's mouth became a thin, tight line.

"For heaven's sake, Miss Stimpson!" she snapped. "Again?! After what I said to you last time? When will you learn to keep your mouth shut!"

"You have met him, Professor?" Tricia shot back, before she could stop herself. "The man doesn't exactly inspire pleasantries."

A few feet away, Katie and Angelina both gasped quietly. Professor McGongagall said nothing and, for a moment, Tricia though she might actually explode. However, the corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly, as though she was trying not to laugh, and she let out a long sigh.

"Be that as it may," she said, more softly, "we do not need to give him reasons to fault us. I will speak to Severus and have him re-arrange your detention. Heaven knows he's seen enough of you recently." She shook her head exasperatedly as she turned away. "Half past seven, Miss Stimpson," she called over her shoulder. "And if I find out you have another detention with Professor Snape, you will be serving one with me also."

Tricia gaped, open mouthed and horrified, at McGonagall's retreating back. It was all she could do not to scream in frustration.

"Wow, that was lucky," Katie breathed, taking her arm and pulling her onward. "I thought she was going to skin you alive for a second."

"Yeah," muttered Tricia. "Real fucking lucky."

At twenty past seven, Tricia made her way sullenly towards Professor McGonagall's office. She'd heard nothing from Snape and she couldn't decide if this was a cause for concern or relief. She was frustrated at McGonagall's accidental cock-block, not to mention a little apprehensive of the repercussions. Would he be angry, she wondered? She couldn't see why- it was hardly her fault, after all – but Snape was a difficult man to predict.

The prefect meeting turned out to be duller than a double-session of History of Magic – and that was saying something. Tricia could hardly believe her crappy luck. By all rights, she should have been tied up in the dungeons by now being mercilessly violated, not sitting in McGonagall's stuffy office listening to Roger Davies blither on about study groups. Unsurprisingly, her mind began to wander. What was Snape doing down in the dungeons, she wondered. She imagined him working out his frustration on his own and a licentious smirk tugged at her lips. Oh what she wouldn't give to see that! Then a more disquieting thought crossed her mind: what if he'd found someone else to fool around with? There was no shortage of nubile young women in Hogwarts, after all. She didn't know why but the thought filled her with cold and nauseating anger. He had never promised her exclusivity but considering he'd demanded it from her, it seemed honourable to play by his own rules.

By the time she left Professor McGonagall's office, Tricia was in a foul mood. The meeting had dragged on for a whole hour and a half, during which Lee Jordan and Adrian Pucey had had to be pulled off each other twice, much to McGonagall's disgust. Normally, Tricia would have considered a fight at a prefect meeting at least mildly entertaining but, with her mind occupied as it was, she couldn't summon the energy to care. With Lee suffering the brunt of McGonagall's wrath, she found herself making her away back to Gryffindor tower alone, absorbed in her dark thoughts. The thought of Snape with another girl made her sick with jealousy. Of course, there was nothing to suggest that he was. _This is Snape you're talking about_, her mind pointed out, somewhat cruelly. _He's no Gilderoy Lockhart_. Perhaps, she thought, she was just being paranoid.

She trudged through the now empty castle, her feet moving of their own accord. She was so absorbed in her worries that she didn't notice the classroom door not yards in front of her open, nor did she notice someone exit until she had walked headlong into them. She let out a noise of surprise and stumbled backwards, eyes flickering up to see who or what she had collided with. A tall, thin figure in black robes stood directly in her path and she did not need to glance past their middle to tell who it was. Nevertheless, she lifted her gaze. Snape was regarding her with cool, coal-coloured eyes, an expression of unmistakable displeasure on his sallow face. He gestured toward them empty classroom from which he had just emerged and jerked his head.

"In," he commanded simply, and Tricia had to admire how just one little word from him could fill her with both excitement and dread. She lowered her gaze obediently and ducked inside the open door without a hint of hesitation. It creaked and then clicked ominously closed behind them and when she next looked up, Snape was standing in front of it, his eyes boring into her. She noted his wand out and, for a brief moment, she felt her heart constrict with panic. Snape, however, simply pointed it at the door, casting a single, silent spell.

"Well?" he prompted, after a beat. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Tricia frowned.

"What do mean, 'what do I have to say for myself'?" she scoffed. "Do you think I wanted to get dragged off to that stupid prefect meeting? Do you think I was happy about spending my night talking patrol rosters with Davies instead of riding you into your desk chair?"

Snape's eyes widened slightly at that, though whether it was in anger or something else she had no idea.

"So crude, Miss Stimpson," he murmured, and, unless she was mistaken, Tricia could have sworn she heard a hint of arousal in his voice. "Tell me," he continued silkily, not moving from his sentry at the door, "did you even challenge Minerva when she requested your presence?"

"Are you kidding me?" hissed Tricia. "Of course I challenged her! I was lucky she was in a good mood or I'd still be there. We have to find a better way of meeting that doesn't involve you putting me in 'detention'. She's starting to notice."

The potion's master looked thoughtful for a moment, his cold expression softening as he processed this new piece of information.

"Agreed," he assented, eventually. "I will give the matter some thought. "So," and he moved, finally, towards her, his robes billowing. "Was your evening enjoyable?"

"Of course it wasn't," Tricia sighed. "All I could think about was what I was missing out on."

He smiled smugly at that, reaching out a long-fingered hand to caress her jaw. Tricia only just contained her needy moan. He was so close now that she could feel the heat coming off his body and smell his deliciously unique scent – a mixture of rich, woody herbs, soap and fresh ink. It was utterly intoxicating.

"This colour," he murmured, as his fingers slid over her cheeks to tangle in her hair. "I had never expected it to so beautifully compliment your skin tone."

"You like it then?" asked Tricia shyly, leaning into his touch.

"Most definitely," he purred and Tricia had only a second to register his tone before he was upon her, claiming her lips hungrily. She moaned aloud this time, throwing her arms around his neck and surrendering to his unexpected passion. His body pressed insistently against her own and suddenly they were both stumbling backwards, stopping only when they were shoved up against the wall. His tongue roughly invaded her mouth, teasing and caressing. Tricia felt a pang of arousal that went straight to her loins and she said a silent prayer of thanks that she was wearing black lace after all.

"I've been thinking about you all evening," Snape panted, breaking their kiss to nuzzle at her neck. He licked a line of fire along her thrumming pulse, making her squirm with growing need.

"Likewise," gasped Tricia. She tilted her head back to give him better access, which he readily took advantage of, placing small, succulent bites across her delicate nape.

"I very nearly broke my own rule, Miss Stimpson," he continued and Tricia whimpered as he began to drag a hand slowly down her body. "Your little transformation rather took me by surprise. I found myself… painfully aroused." He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, toying masterfully with the waistband of her skirt. Tricia was completely taken aback – when did he get so good at this, she wondered. Their first kiss, a few weeks ago, seemed so clumsy now in comparison. He was playing her like a lute.

"Professor," she sighed, her voice weak. "Please. I need you."

"Oh I know," he smirked, and the fingers pressing hotly against her belly began to slip lower. Tricia closed her eyes, her lips parting in anticipation. He was moving so slowly she could have screamed, hit him even. But then he pushed past the seam of her underwear, a single finger sliding along her moist folds, and she saw stars.

"Oh fuck!" she cried. "Professor!"

Her hips bucked shamelessly against that lone digit, desperately trying to evoke some more contact. Snape didn't seem to mind; in fact, he chuckled darkly into her ear, worrying her dainty lobe between his teeth.

"What is it you need, Patricia?" he whispered, as he rubbed his finger backwards and forwards over her entrance, keeping his touch maddeningly light.

"Oh, gods," Tricia wailed, "you! I need you, Professor!"

"As you wish," he growled and, without a moment's hesitation, he pushed inside of her sodden passage. Tricia moaned loudly, drowning out his subtle hiss of approval. "Oh, so wet, Miss Stimpson," he murmured, admiringly, as he thrust his digit in and out of her body, rubbing that sweet, sweet spot inside of her. Tricia arched her back, glad of his wiry weight pinning her to the wall, or else she might have collapsed. Her body was trembling, reeling from his sensual onslaught and yet longing for more. "Another?" he asked, pressing a second finger against her opening.

"Don't stop," Tricia whimpered. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't and she gave a strangled cry as that second digit joined the first, stretching her, opening her with gentle scissoring motions before starting to fuck her. Tricia ground down on his hand, unable to stop to instinctive motion of her hips. It was nothing like his cock but it felt so good and, when he began to circle his thumb lazily over her clit, she thought she might pass out. A sound just short of a scream burst from her lips and her knees buckled beneath her.

"I love it when you scream," he whispered, his voice hot and carnal in her ear. He pumped his fingers faster and faster inside of her body, whilst his thumb ruthlessly tortured her swollen bud. Tricia could feel herself unraveling, her orgasm building in her lower body. It was both pain and pleasure rolled into one, a pressure that begged for release. She arched her back, waiting for him to take her over the edge.

"Oh, Professor, yes!" she urged him. "That's it! I'm so close!"

And then, out of nowhere, it stopped. His talented hands retreated with the speed of a cobra striking and this time, Tricia did scream, howling in pain and frustration. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced around, half expecting to see them discovered or him hurt somehow on the floor at her feet. Snape, however, was standing before her, sucking idly on his fingers. There was an expression on his face that looked alarmingly like cold triumph and it made her heated blood run cold.

"I think that's enough," he murmured, silkily. "For now, at least."

"What the fuck?" wailed Tricia. "What the hell was that?"

"Call it retribution, Miss Stimpson," he smirked. "You left me hanging and I shall do the same to you. You _were_ warned."

"How many more times do I have to say it, _I_ didn't choose to schedule a damned prefect meeting!" Tricia bellowed. She has been so close, a couple more seconds, and she would have been there. Now all she felt was pain and rage and humiliation. She huffed out a little scream of frustration and made to barge past him. He didn't stop her but did call after her, halting her before she could reach the door.

"We will resume this tomorrow, Patricia," he said, sharply. "And you will _not_ touch yourself. I will know if you have."

Tricia whirled around, her mouth open in absolute outrage. Furiously, she racked her brain for something to say to him, some biting retort, but nothing came. There were no words for how much of a colossal prick he was being. So she settled for a disgusted snort before turning on her heel and stomping out of the classroom.

How dare he, she raged internally, as she stormed her way up to Gryffindor Tower, making several portraits along the way jump back in alarm. What right did he have to punish her for something that was out of her control? She was all for a bit discipline in the name of fun but what he'd just done was downright cruel. Tomorrow, she snorted. Like hell she would be going anywhere near him tomorrow.

The common room was quiet when she entered but she ignored the handful of occupants all the same, making a bee-line for the one place she could count on being empty at this hour: the bathroom. She locked the door roughly behind her and, pushing past her skirt, began a fierce quest to finish what Snape had started.

It took mere moments. Her body was so tightly wound, anger and frustration holding her steady on the precipice of ecstasy; a few familiar strokes of her own hand upon her core sent her over the edge. She moaned, panting wildly against the sturdy wood of the door as wave after wave of white hot pleasure coursed through her body. It was several minutes before she could move again and when she did, it was with a little jolt of residual sensation that made her giggle in spite of everything. She washed up, rearranged her clothing and dragged her suddenly weary body up the stairs to her dorm.

The girls were absent – she supposed she must have stormed blindly past them in the common room – so she went straight to her bed, collapsing onto the blissfully soft mattress. Her head was a muggy mess of anger and confusion, lust and insecurity. She couldn't understand what had come over him. She tried to think back, to recall anything other than the prefect fiasco that she might have done to upset him. There was nothing she could think of but her mind was hardly at its best. Sighing, she decided to call it a night; she could fret some more in the morning. So she reached for her pillow, where she knew her neatly folded pajamas would we waiting for her, comfy and dependable. It was then that she noticed it – a tiny sliver of parchment, blackened around the edges, as though it had been burnt. Tricia picked it up, frowning, and turned it over in her hands. There, written in black ink, were seven words that made the colour drain from her face:

'_You are in a world of trouble.'_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Two-parter alert! Sorry guys, but it seems my plans for this chapter got majorly out of hand so I'm going to have to split it. The good news is that I won't keep you waiting until next Thursday for the second part – I will put it up on Monday for you!_

_Again, I'd just like to thank everyone who's reading and following, favouriting and reviewing this story. =) I'm really loving your input and I'm taking it all on board!_

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, nudity, sexual themes.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Tricia awoke the next morning from a disturbing dream. She could barely remember it – something to do with dark tunnels and clanking chains and a cold voice laughing at her as she stumbled through the dank gloom. Whatever it was, it had left her feeling panicked and anxious. It took her a moment to remember why she had been having such dreams; then she saw the parchment on her bedside table. How? How could he possibly have known? She had tried to deny it at first, to convince herself that it couldn't be from him. Yet she could recognise that spidery hand anywhere, so often had she seen it scrawled across her potions homework.

She mused upon it as she made her way down to the girls' bathrooms, hoping for a little solitude. It was a Sunday morning and most of the students would still be in bed, if not lounging around in their pyjamas. Hopefully it meant she could shower without being disturbed. However, no sooner had she set her wash-bag down on the counter, did a familiar voice call out to her.

"Tricia?"

Katie was hovering outside of the stalls, wrapped in a towel. She looked tired, as though she had slept, and she held herself as though she'd run a marathon. Tricia raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing down here so early?" she muttered, trying to be annoyed but failing as concern for her friend settled in.

"I could ask you the same question," said Katie, evasively. "We usually have to drag you out of bed on a Sunday."

"Weird dream woke me up," Tricia said, truthfully. "I couldn't get back to sleep after that so I figured I'd come down and get dressed."

"Fair enough," shrugged Katie. She glanced almost guiltily around the room before she spoke again. "Hey, no-one's around… come shower with me?" When tricia arched her eyebrow again, she added hastily, "No, not like that. I could just use the company."

"All right," Tricia agreed, wondering where her friend was going with this. "Just give me a second." She heard the hiss of running water as Katie switched the shower on to heat up. There was no-one else in the room so she had no qualms about stripping off there and then, folding her pyjamas neatly and leaving them on the bench. Shivering, she picked up her towel and her wash-bag and, leaving the former on a hook outside the stall, she slipped past the curtain. Katie was already inside and she molded around Tricia, pressing her back to the red-head's front so they could both fit comfortably under the spray. Tricia could only imagine Snape's face if he saw her like this and a wicked smirk pulled at her lips. Serves him right, she thought, as Katie began to wash her hair for her. It wasn't like she was really breaking any of his rules, either.

"So," Katie asked, over the hiss of the shower, "What were you in such a foul mood about last night? You charged through the common room like your arse was on fire."

"Oh," Tricia murmured. "That. Just a shitty day. The prefect meeting was heinously dull and to top it off, Snape gave me a load of shit for missing his detention."

She didn't like having to lie to her friend but somehow she didn't think "I'm fucking a teacher and he's playing me for a fool" would go down all too well.

"Unlucky," said Katie, sympathetically. "I didn't _think_ he was going to take that well. I hope you stood your ground."

"I always do," sighed Tricia, darkly. "Anyway, screw that, what about you? You look like you haven't slept in days - and don't think I've forgotten about you and Alicia! What's going on with you, Katie?"

Katie did not answer straight away; she continued to run her fingers through Tricia's hair, almost pensively. Then, without warning, she burst into tears.

"Oh Tish, I don't know what's wrong with me!" she howled. Alarmed, Tricia whirled around as best as she could in the tiny shower stall, pulling Katie into her arms. She prayed to the gods for none of the first years to walk in now: this would not be easy to explain.

"Talk to me," she implored softly, as she stroked Katie's back in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

"It's all this mess with Lee," the younger girl sobbed. "He's such a nice guy but it's just… not right! It's not the same with him as it is when I'm with a girl! And I so want it to be!"

Tricia huffed out a heavy sigh. This was too deep a conversation to be having naked in a communal shower room. She reached behind Katie and shut off the water. "Come on," she suggested. "Let's dry off if we're going to do this here." She took Katie by the hand, leading out of the tiny cubicle. Their towels were on the hook just outside and she handed Katie hers, wrapping it around her, before she picked up her own. "Look," she began, as she sat down, hair dripping, on the bench, "now's the time to be really honest with yourself. Are you with Lee because you like him or because you think you should like him?"

Katie sat timidly down next to her and Tricia could read the answer on the brunette's face before she had even spoken. Her expression was a grimace, as though what she was thinking was somehow painful to her. Tricia could sympathise; sometimes it was harder to be honest with yourself than it was with others.

"He's smart, he's funny, he's good-looking," Katie murmured. "I should be a molten puddle at his feet. But I'm not. I enjoy his company, don't get me wrong, but…"

"But it doesn't excite you?" Tricia supplied quietly and Katie nodded, succumbing to her tears again.

"I don't know why I'm crying," she sniffled, with a watery laugh. "I'm not upset. If anything, it's a relief to actually be honest about how I feel. I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't bi-sexual; I… I think I'm gay."

"Atta girl," Tricia smiled, and she pulled Katie into a rather soggy embrace. "It feels good to say it out loud, doesn't it?"

"I'm still scared though," Katie breathed into her ear. "I'm scared people will treat me differently."

"I can't promise that won't happen," sighed Tricia. "But if it does, you stand your ground." She withdrew from their embrace to look Katie fiercely in the eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," she insisted, fervently. "If anyone – _anyone_ - has a problem with who you are… well, that says a lot more about them than it does about you." And she kissed her affectionately on the forehead. "Now let's either get back in that shower or get some clothes on. I'm freezing my tits off."

"Wouldn't want that," Katie smirked.

After finishing their shower and getting dressed, Tricia and Katie parted ways on the dormitory stairs, Katie citing she had some thinking to do before she met with Lee later. Tricia found herself standing at the foot of her bed, wondering what to do now. She had an essay she could be getting on with, a particularly brutal one McGonagall had set them, but she couldn't quite summon the frame of mind. After cheering Katie up, her predicament had been quick to return to her mind. The way she saw it, there was only one thing to do: go and confront him.

Her newfound courage lasted as far as the third floor, by which point she was convinced she had lost her mind. Snape was angry with her – rightfully so or not – and she was just handing herself over to him. She wondered if perhaps he'd managed to confund her when she wasn't looking; it would certainly explain her acting like a total idiot.

The dungeons were eerily quiet when she arrived, without so much as a single rogue Slytherin wandering the corridors. Perhaps the rumours of Dark Arts and orgies were true, she thought fiendishly, as she approached the door to Snape's office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice and waited for the call to her doom. Ten seconds passed. Then thirty. After a minute, she began to feel stupid. She wondered if was actually there, if he knew it was her and was just being stubborn. However, just as she was about to leave, the Bloody Baron floated out of a nearby wall, making her shriek in alarm.

"He's in his quarters," the ghost said disinterestedly, apparently unconcerned that he had almost frightened her to death. He drifted on down the dingy corridor, humming a slow and mournful tune. Snape was in his quarters? Tricia shook her head. She could not go knocking on the door to his private rooms.

Could she?


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Here it is guys, the second part to what would have been one big fat mega-chapter. Thank you for bearing with me throughout this – I don't like having to do two-parters but it really would have been too much if I'd have left it as one. _

_So I give you: dark and smutty! I hope you like it. I've tried not to overdo it this time around (though look out for some creepiness towards the end). I wanted to leave the ending open for some post-coital Sevvy next chapter. ;)_

_Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and faving! I hope you continue to enjoy it. _

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, BDSM, sexual scenes.**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Tricia stood silently outside the door to Snape's chambers and, for the first time in her life, her fabled Gryffindor courage almost failed her. The cold dungeon air was heavy with ominous tension. It took every ounce of her self-control not to turn on her heel and run back up the corridor. He would never know, she reminded herself. He would never be any the wiser. But in the end, she couldn't: her pride simply wouldn't allow it. So, taking a galvanising breath, she lifted a trembling hand and knocked on the door. There was a considerable delay and Tricia was just feeling the beginnings of relief when she heard the lock click. The door opened a fraction and Snape appeared in the gap, his expression irritable. He stiffened momentarily with surprise as his black eyes fell upon her. Then, his lips curved into an unpleasant smirk.

"Miss Stimpson," he murmured, his tone icy. "I _had_ wondered when you might seek me out."

"We need to talk," Tricia said, as authoritatively as she could manage with shaking hands.

"Yes, I think so," Snape responded and he opened the door wide, inviting her to enter. Every sensible bone in her body was screaming at her, telling her not to cross that threshold, but she ignored her reason; she could not lose face to him again. Silently, she stepped into his parlour and almost gasped at what she saw.

The room was quite the opposite to his dingy, Spartan office. The furnishings were few, indeed, but sumptuous and elaborate, a cornucopia of mahogany, rich leather and luxurious velvet. There were paintings on the walls – actual paintings as opposed to jars of slimy, dead and pickled oddities – and the magnificently carved stone fireplace was crackling with merry, orange flames. Tricia was surprised; she had not expected his quarters to be so indulgent. She wondered idly how many people had seen them.

She turned to face him and they regarded each other in frosty silence for several moments.

"You broke the rules," he murmured eventually, without a trace of amusement in his voice. Tricia's pulse quickened beneath her skin.

"Only because you pushed me," she countered, hotly. "You have no right-"

"I was under the impression we were playing according to my terms, Miss Stimpson," he hissed. "Ergo, your opinion on the matter is invalid."

Tricia blinked defiantly. A game? This was his idea of a game?

"How did you even know?" she muttered. "That's messed up."

He smirked again, a cold, cruel gesture that did not reach his eyes.

"Patricia, I know magic that a sixth year couldn't even dream of," he breathed. "Rest assured that whatever you do, I shall know about it."

He regarded her intently, his words laced with subtle meaning. Tricia wondered if he knew about her shower that morning – not that she had broken any of his stupid rules by doing _that_. Something in the way he was looking at her told her he did. It was a dark look, smouldering with wrath and longing alike. It made Tricia squirm with unbidden desire.

"Are you going to punish me, sir?" she whispered, surprised by how husky her voice sounded. Snape's smirk widened and his coal-coloured eyes flashed with some unnamed fire.

"I think you deserve it, don't you Miss Stimpson?"

No, she thought.

"Yes," she replied, and she cursed herself at once. What the hell was he doing to her? She was supposed to be angry at him, not melting in his hands like a chocolate frog on a summer's day! She closed her eyes, breathing in a deep steadying breath. She had to steel herself. She had to resist.

"Tricia..." he whispered, his voice mere centimetres from her ear. Tricia's eyes snapped open again. He was right in her space, towering over her with a predatorial gleam in his dark eyes. His warmth and his scent surrounded her, filling her senses and making her traitorous body surrender to his lure. Her hands reached out for him and he caught them deftly, pulling her flush against his chest so he could kiss her. Tricia moaned, the last of her resolve melting away as he roughly claimed her mouth. His tongue thrust against hers and she thought she caught the bittersweet taste of dark chocolate before he pulled away, panting, leaving her wet.

"The desk," he commanded. "Now."

He pointed almost viciously to a handsome desk in the corner, which was clear save for a neat stack of parchment in one corner. Tricia obeyed at once, her stomach doing little somersaults of delight at the prospect of more desk sex. Gracefully, she hoisted herself up onto the smooth, polished surface, parting her thighs invitingly. His eyes met hers across the room and he gave her a devious smirk that made her throb with need.

"Tempting," he murmured. "But not what I had in mind. _Bend_ _over_ the desk, Miss Stimpson, facing the door."

Tricia frowned, not entirely sure of the reason for his strange request. She obeyed however, leaning her body on her arms as she bent over the desk. She felt her skirt hitch as she did so, all but exposing her lace-covered backside and she realised his intention: he was going to spank her. A tremor of anticipation rippled through her body and her flingers flexed on the cool surface of the wood.

"Good," Snape muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "In future, when I tell you to assume to position, this is the stance you will take. Now..."

Unable to see him, Tricia could only hear, and to some extent sense, his movements. She could feel his presence grow closer, crossing the room, and hear the rustle of his robes as though he were reaching into his pockets. Her breath caught in her throat and she started when she felt something cool and firm trailing over the tops of her thighs. Her head snapped round, peering over her shoulder, and she could just make out the leather riding crop in his hand. Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest.

"You are to be punished, Miss Stimpson, for your flagrant disregard of the rules," he announced, in a deadly voice. "You touched yourself, after I _specifically_ told you not to. As such, I am sentencing you to twelve lashes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Tricia breathed, shifting on the desk. She couldn't say why but the prospect of this severe man beating the shit out of her was the hottest thing she had ever heard. She wanted to be angry, she really did...

"Brace yourself, Patricia," he instructed. "Stand with feet hips width apart and grip the edge of the desk."

She did as she was told, repressing a moan as her breasts were flattened against the desk. She felt him move behind her, her whole body tensing with anticipation. Then, there was a swish and a ringing slap as he brought the crop down across her backside. Hot, stinging pain blossomed on her skin and Tricia let out a yelp of surprise. It hurt – holy shit, did it hurt – but the resounding shockwave it sent through her lower regions was as arousing as it was painful. She moaned and he hit her again, a little lower this time, right on the join between buttock and thigh. The pain was exquisite and she threw back her head, crying out to the empty room.

"Your. Pleasure. Belongs. To. Me." Snape ground out the words, punctuating each with another forceful crack of the riding crop. Tricia moaned noisily. Every blow brought her both pain and pleasure, heightening her senses, rocking her body to the core. She could feel her nipples rubbing against the surface of the desk, her passage clenching and unclenching with every stroke. He was hitting so close to her centre and yet not close enough, not enough to give her any relief. That all too familiar pressure began to build, twisting in her belly. She tried to wiggle her hips, to control the landing of the blows, but he only moved them higher.

"I don't think so," he snarled, landing an extra hard swipe on the middle of her backside. His voice was husky for all its vitriol, betraying his own arousal at the spectacle before him. He hit her again and again and Tricia wailed her need, wishing she'd had the sense to count. Her body was a quivering mass of sensation, of pain and pleasure, and she needed something, anything, to break. Suddenly, as quickly as it started, it was over. She heard the riding crop clatter to the floor and then Snape's hands were upon her, roughly yanking down her underwear. Tricia had only a split-second to gather her thoughts before his thick cock filled her in one swift gesture. She screamed, arching her back.

"Fuck!"

"Oh, so wet, Miss Stimpson," he groaned and without delay, he began to pound her roughly, grunting his pleasure. Her body and the desk beneath it quaked with the force of his thrusts. He felt incredible, stretching her, fucking her, sending wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her body.

"Your pleasure is mine," he growled. "Say it!"

"My pleasure... is... yours!" Tricia panted, arching up off the desk to impale herself further. Snape took full advantage, slipping his hands inside her shirt to tease at her breasts. The combined torment of her nipples and the smashing of his cock against her cervix sent Tricia hurtling over the edge. She cried out incoherently as her world went white, her body becoming a limp mass of sensation in his arms. Through her haze, she felt her muscles flexing around him and he too came with a harsh cry, pulling her flush against his chest. Tricia moaned softly, revelling in the throbbing of her sex, the pulsating sting of her backside and the hot trickle of their mingled fluids seeping down her thighs. She felt his heartbeat hammering against her back and she smiled as his fingers threaded through her hair, kissing it tenderly.

"Mine," he whispered, feverishly. "You. Are. Mine."


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Wow, thanks for the super response to the last couple of chapters! I'm so glad you enjoyed them! _

_I'd just like to apologise for the formatting of some of the chapters. I was looking at the live preview the other day and I noticed that some of the chapters are coming up all in bold. I can assure you, on my documents, they are perfectly normal so, sadly, I have no idea how to fix this. But I am aware of it, annoying as it is. _

_Anyway, as promised, a little bit of post-coital fluff (ish). It's about as close as I can manage considering who I'm writing about. ;) I don't see him as a fluffy sort of person! Also, I shall take this opportunity to admit that I shamelessly 'borrowed' Hermione's protean charm idea. You'll see. ^_^_

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, nudity.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Snape's bed was huge- criminally so considering only one person slept in it. A monstrous ebony four-poster with emerald hangings, it dominated the simply furnished chamber, looking comfy and inviting. Tricia cast a lazy gaze over the bedroom as she lay tangled in its sheets, taking in the intricate stonework and the few other handsome pieces of furniture dotted around. Snape was at her side, half-dressed but pressed up against her all the same; his fingers were cording leisurely through her hair, whispering sweet words into the silken red strands.

"Do you see, Patricia," he murmured, warmly, "how pleasant it can be when you just behave yourself?"

They had been at it all afternoon. After punishing her emphatically for her misconduct, he'd proceeded to fuck her again on the hearth rug, against the wall, pausing for lunch – which he'd ordered directly to his quarters – only to resume again in the bedroom. He'd almost been a different man in this room; tender, reverent, worshipping her as they had made love.

"I don't know," Tricia murmured, her mind wandering back to their earlier encounter, "I think it was pretty pleasant when I was misbehaving too."

He laughed at that, a true sound that she rarely heard, and she couldn't resist a smile.

"You are reprehensible as ever, Miss Stimpson," he smirked and he leant in to capture her lips in a lazy kiss. Tricia sighed, arching her back as his teasing tongue slipped into her mouth. It was a chaste and languorous gesture, their lust spent after hours of carnal gluttony. His free hand ghosted over her curves, pawing at her naked bottom. "I like this," he whispered, smiling against her lips. "So supple and delicious..."

Tricia giggled and twined her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss. Her breasts pressed flat against his bare chest, tickled by his smattering of dark chest hair.

"Speaking of delicious," he murmured, pulling away with a regretful sigh, "If I am not mistaken, it is almost dinner time."

Tricia blinked, surprised, as he slipped off the bed in search of his clothes. She could scarcely believe it was that late and she felt a pang of guilt that she'd not even bothered to tell her friends she was leaving. Would they be suspicious, she wondered? Or even annoyed? Hopefully not; they all had issues of their own to be dealing with, after all, and as much as she wanted to get back to them, she was rather enjoying herself.

"Can't we just order in again?" she sighed and she flopped back onto the mattress. It really was too comfortable in his bed; it was a wonder he could bear to leave it in the morning for the cold confines of his dungeon classroom. A few feet away, he cast her a reproachful smirk as he shrugged on his robe.

"Tempting," he admitted. "But I have already missed one meal, as have you. It will be suspicious if I were to miss another, particularly on a Sunday."

"Really?" Tricia toyed absently with the tassel on a cushion. "I'd have thought weekends were the ideal time to break routine. It's your down time too, right?"

"In theory," Snape snorted, meticulously dusting off his sleeves. "It rarely works out that way. Besides, Sunday evening dinners are an unofficial staff meeting of sorts. I'm expected to be there." He met her eyes through the mirror as he perfected his appearance and he smirked again. "And I'm sure you have work you should be doing too, Patricia."

Tricia scowled, earning herself another laugh.

"I thought as much," he murmured, smugly.

"How is it you know everything?" she responded in a sullen mutter.

"You are a NEWT student," he said, simply. "I should hope you always have work to be doing."

"I'd rather be doing you," she breathed and she shot him a scorching glance as her hunger began to stir anew. There really was something to be said for teenage hormones, she decided, feeling her sex pulse eagerly in agreement. Snape groaned and in the mirror she saw him close his eyes, taking a deep and steadying breath.

"You are going to be the death of me," he whispered, his tone longing. "I have not been this insatiably enamoured since I was your age. However," he added, and at once his voice became firmer, more professional, "With age comes the benefit of self-control. I shall have to insist, Miss Stimpson, as much as it pains me. Would you like me to pass you your clothes?"

Tricia gave a sad smile. There was no arguing with him when he'd made up his mind and she supposed he was right – there _was_ a rather horrid essay waiting for her upstairs.

"No thank you, sir," she replied sweetly, as she slipped out of bed and began to dress. Her panties were still hanging from the chandelier in his parlour; they would have to wait.

"Ah, we're back to 'sir', are we?" he noted. "It was 'God' just a short while ago."

Tricia almost fell over of her skirt. She lifted her head to stare outright at the man before her, letting her incredulity seep into her features.

"I'm sorry, did you just make a joke?"

Snape folded his arms and smirked at her, watching with eager eyes as she wiggled into her clothing.

"Contrary to popular opinion, Miss Stimpson, I do have a sense of humour," he informed her, sardonically. Then, apparently rethinking his stance, he closed the small distance between them, scooping up her bra along the way. "You seem unsteady on your feet," he commented. "Perhaps you require some assistance?"

"Entirely your fault," Tricia whispered, as his arms snaked around her bare back to fasten the garment. Her breath hitched and she had to bite back a moan when he caressed her nipples, rolling each one between his fingers, before tucking them into her bra with a wicked grin. "You're such a tease," she grumbled, shucking the straps over her shoulders and reaching for her shirt. He uttered a dark chuckle, his black eyes blazing.

"Occasionally," he admitted, as he meandered to the door. "But you react so beautifully, Patricia, how am I to resist?"

Don't then, Tricia thought longingly, but she dismissed the notion at once. He had been more than generous with his time and she didn't want to come off as needy and unappreciative, even if she could happily keep going through the night. So she continued to dress in silence, taking care to avoid the 'just-fucked' look that would surely rouse suspicion. She found him waiting in the parlour when she was finished, twirling her black lace panties around one long, pale finger.

"Assistance?" he offered, his voice low and suggestive. It was all Tricia could do not to pounce on him. Was he doing this on purpose? It seemed likely and yet she accepted his help, steadying herself on his shoulder as he knelt down before her, guiding one foot and then the other into the tiny garment. He made no disguise of caressing her stocking-clad legs as he eased the underwear up and into place. Tricia tried not to blush. It was such an oddly intimate thing to do and she found herself hoping, praying he would use it as an excuse to touch her. He didn't, however, simply smoothing down her skirt instead with an exaggerated flourish.

"There," he smirked, fiendishly. "The picture of innocence."

Tricia could only managed a sulky glare, which made him smirk all the more.

"Now, regarding our earlier conversation," he began and he swept over to his desk and pulled out a piece of fresh parchment. Using his wand, his cut it neatly in two and then muttered a spell she didn't quite catch. There was a flash of cerulean light and the two pieces of parchment glowed for a second then stopped, looking as unassuming as they had to begin with. "There," Snape muttered, and he handed her one of the pieces of parchment. "Keep this with you at all times. When we are to meet, I will write to you on my piece and you will receive the same message on your own. It will grow warm momentarily when it has been altered so you shall always be notified. You can also use it to communicate with me, should you need to. Just make sure to wipe it after you read it; it would be highly incriminating if it were to fall into the wrong hands."

Tricia turned the seemingly unremarkable piece of parchment over in her fingers, smiling to herself. She wondered if he knew that he'd just created the wizarding version of muggle text messaging. It was a pity such technology did not work at Hogwarts, though she supposed his method was somewhat more inconspicuous.

"Thank you," she said softly, folding the parchment once and slipping it into her robe pocket.

"Now, we have the problem of getting you out of the dungeon unseen," he mused. "Dinner begins in five minutes so it would be foolish to expect the corridors to be quiet."

"Yeah, even I can't think of a decent excuse for being in your bedroom," Tricia smirked. "I doubt 'detention' will cut it this time."

"Quite," he murmured, sounding amused. "It seems there's only one option – I am going to have to floo you to an empty room somewhere near your common room." No sooner had he spoken did he raise his wand again, replenishing the fire that had dwindled and died during their hours spent distracted. Crackling flames burst forth in the hearth and Snape approached them, taking a small, silver box off the mantel. He beckoned to Tricia and she followed, standing obediently by his side. "I will go first," he told her, softly. "To ensure the room in truly empty. Do you have a suitable excuse to offer your housemates, should they enquire about your absence?"

He was suddenly very close and Tricia found it hard to think as his presence invaded her senses.

"I'll think of something," she managed and he offered her a small smile.

"Good girl," he praised, dipping his head to hers and kissing her greedily. Tricia gasped, clutching the front of his robes to steel herself. Her tongue danced briefly with his, igniting her body once more, making her moan. However, he pulled away all too quickly, looking down at her through half-lidded eyes.

"Do you like to leave me wanting?" she sighed, torn between annoyance and admiration.

"A little," he confessed, with a smirk. "I like to keep you hungry, Miss Stimpson. Your voraciousness is very appealing."

"Tease."

"indeed. Now, I shall just check the coast is clear..." he reached for the silver box and retrieved a handful of glittering floo powder, throwing it into the flames. He uttered a letter and number combo that had Tricia baffled until she realised it must be the name of the classroom. Then he stuck his head into the dancing green flames. Emerging a few moments later, he seemed satisfied. "The room is empty," he confirmed. "It's only a short distance from Gryffindor Tower."

"Thank you," Tricia murmured, feeling suddenly awkward. "For... everything."

Snape smirked again, those back eyes of his glittering in the fey green light, and it reassured her completely.

"Entirely my pleasure, Patricia," he whispered. "Well, not entirely, I hope. Until next time..."

And he kissed her hand, his tongue flickering briefly between the valley of her knuckles before retreating again. Tricia's insides fluttered and she had to try very hard not to whimper or stumble as she stepped into the grate.

"Until next time, sir," she breathed and she caught a brief glimpse of his answering smile before the warmth of the flames swallowed her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Please note, this is but a humble fan-fiction. All characters, places, themes etc belong to JK Rowling. I am merely toying with them for my own amusement. _

_Once again guys, thank you so much for the brilliant response to the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Thank you to everyone who as read, reviewed, followed or faved, I really appreciate it. ^_^_

_I apologise if this chapter is a little off – I'm hoping it's not but I had a bit of a struggle with it this week. It doesn't help that my trusty netbook is on its last legs. I LOATHE having to write at the PC. It feels so formal and forced and not me at all. But I'm excited with where this is going and I hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Warnings: mature language, sexual themes.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Snape's plan, as it happened, had worked rather well, though why he had chosen to send her to the same classroom they'd fooled around in last time, she had no idea. She'd had little time to give it any thought, though, as she'd bumped into Katie on her way to Gryffindor tower.

"There you are!" the younger girl exclaimed, with more relief than seemed necessary. "I thought I was going to have to go down alone."

"Why?" Tricia asked. "Where's everyone, else?"

Katie shot her a dark glance and it was only then that she noticed how red her eyes were

"I'll explain on the way," she muttered, and she took Tricia's arm, steering her back down the steps into the castle.

It turned out that Katie had finally come clean with Lee and Tricia couldn't have been prouder of her. Lee, however, had not taken it so well and had accused Katie of using her sexuality as an excuse to dump him. Tricia could scarcely believe that cheery, easy-going Lee could ever say such a thing. However, as the two girls entered the Great Hall together, the look of contempt he shot them made Tricia think twice.

"Wow," she murmured, as they took seats as far away from Lee and the Weasley twins as possible. "He is not taking this well."

"He jinxed my Herbology textbook," Katie muttered. "Now it shouts 'slut' every time I open it. I can't get it to stop."

Tricia shook her head. The boy was obviously hurting but that was no excuse for petty tricks. She sighed, feeling incredibly sorry for Katie, and began to help herself to roast turkey. Her gaze flickered unwittingly up to the staff table as she did so. Snape was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall whilst she poured them both wine, his expressed unreadable and his appearance as ordinary as ever, in spite of his afternoon's exertions. It made Tricia's pulse jump just to see him, and she lowered her eyes, trying not to smile. It seemed she was not as subtle as she'd hoped.

"What are you grinning at?" asked Katie, looking askance at her over a plate of spaghetti.

"Nothing," Tricia replied, quickly. Katie simply shook her head, her lips twitching into a maddeningly shrewd smirk.

"Sure," she laughed, disbelievingly. "So tell me, how was your dirty afternoon with Mr. Durmstrang?"

Tricia dropped her fork and only just managed to dodge the resulting splatter of gravy that came hurtling her way. Katie laughed all the more but Tricia could not see the funny side. Cheeks flaming, she shot a glance up at the top table, sincerely hoping that Snape had not seen her clumsy behaviour. Luckily, he still seemed engaged and it brought her no small amount of relief. Cleaning off her fork with a napkin, she wondered what had prompted Katie think such a thing. Had Snape already fed her friends some excuse about her absence? If so, why hadn't he told her? It was hard to play along when one didn't know the game. She glanced, bewildered, at Katie and was only perturbed further by her riotous laugh.

"I'm sorry," the brunette grinned. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"What makes you think that's where I've been?" Tricia asked, indignantly.

"Because you smell like sex," whispered Katie conspiratorially and Tricia felt herself blushing again. _She smelt like sex?_ How embarrassing! It was hardly surprising, they'd been fucking all afternoon. She should have insisted on a shower before dinner. Damn that girl!

"Relax" Katie grinned, bursting into peals of laughter. "Shit Tricia, I'm only messing with you. You don't have to be so serious!"

"Hmm, real funny," muttered Tricia sullenly, though she was honestly relieved. "If you're only joking, how did you know...?"

"Oh please! You've been missing all afternoon, you're distant, you keep grinning like an idiot... it's hardly subtle."

Tricia smiled guiltily.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "You've had a shitty day and here I am being painfully obvious, or so it would seem."

"Don't worry, I'm glad one of us is having fun," Katie grinned around a mouthful of pasta. "So how was it?"

Tricia raised a well plucked eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?" she asked and part of her wished that she could tell her friend, that she could reveal that she'd had an afternoon of wild and incredibly satisfying sex with none other than their potion's master. She felt guilty keeping this from her, after everything Katie had confided in her. Yet it was out of the question. Katie, for her own part, shot her a wistful glance.

"That good huh?" she murmured. "Bitch," she added, sticking out her tongue.

"You asked," Tricia shrugged and she reached over to pour them both a fresh goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," sighed Katie. "Tell you what, let's finish up here and go back upstairs. I've got a bottle of elf-made wine stashed under my bed that my sister sent me. We can crack it open and you can give me all the sordid details whilst I drink myself into oblivion. Sound good?"

Tricia frowned. Nothing about 'drinking oneself into oblivion' sounded particularly healthy but she supposed if she was there as well… and a glass or two of wine would be the icing on a particularly sumptuous cake.

"Alright," she beamed. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you.

"Aren't you always?" Katie winked roguishly.

It was late on Tuesday afternoon and Tricia was lounging in front of the common room fire, smiling as she enjoyed an incredibly rare free period. The rain lashing the windows was strangely relaxing, particularly when one was not outside in it, and the sweet smell of dried lilacs burning in the fire cast a warm, heady scent about the room. However, it was neither the weather nor the house elf's choice of pot pourri that was the source of Tricia's joy. Concealed inside her copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells (Grade Six)' was one remarkable piece of parchment, one that would surely get her into trouble if it somehow managed to escape her and, right at that moment, Tricia had felt it pulse with a familiar warmth. Her stomach lurching with excitement, she surreptitiously lowered her gaze to her textbook and beheld Snape's latest message.

_My afternoon has been abysmal, Miss Stimpson, thank you for reminding me. I am certain my second years go out of their way to be as stupid as humanly possible. Such is the inherent disappointment of my chosen profession. However, the day has not been a complete waste. In my efforts to scour the dungeons for more blackroot moss, I came across an old set of manacles and it got me thinking. You would look lovely cuffed to the posts of my bed, Tricia. Helpless. Vulnerable. Mine. To think of the things I could do to you…_

Tricia shivered with delight. She had never anticipated that a man so severe would be so good at talking dirty. It had taken her completely by surprise when, on Sunday evening, she had felt the parchment grow warm in her pocket and she'd unfolded it to reveal a deliciously lewd missive. They'd been abusing the parchment ever since, sending increasingly risqué messages back and forth. Tricia thought she would never tire of seeing his spidery hand forming such filthy words; sometimes she could almost hear him speaking them, his voice low and husky, and it made her quiver with desire. Beaming, she wiped his latest message from the parchment and began to compose a reply.

_Cuffed to your bed, sir? I'm afraid I must protest. That sounds awfully like a punishment and I am certain I've done nothing to deserve it. I've been a very good girl since you so shamelessly spanked me. _

She tapped the parchment once with her wand and tried not to look too pleased with herself. More than once, she had aroused Alicia and Angelina's suspicious with her vapid grinning and she had been forced to lie about remembering some joke she'd heard in the Great Hall at breakfast. Luckily, neither of her fellow sixth years had cared to ask what the joke was. Now, it seemed, they were content to ignore her dim behavior, buried as they both were in their herbology homework. Tricia felt the parchment grow warm again and she glanced down to read his response.

_So you say, Miss Stimpson. I confess I cannot fault you on your conduct lately. Even your homework has improved. Perhaps, then, I should venture a wager? _

A wager? That had certainly caught Tricia's attention and she picked up her quill, scribbling a hasty reply.

_What kind of wager?_

Her fingers fidgeted with her quill as she waited for his reply. She wondered briefly how he was managing to message her so swiftly when he was teaching a class. Perhaps he had simply left them to it? She couldn't help but think that his poor second years might actually perform better today without him breathing down their necks. He could be incredibly intimidating… and sexy…

The response came almost instantly again.

_A fairly simple wager, Patricia. In tomorrow's class I shall be asking you to brew a new and rather complex potion. If you are diligent and you compose it correctly, you should have every chance of getting it right. If you are careless, it will be a mess. My proposal is this. If you manage to complete the task successfully, then I will submit to your will. If you fail, you will submit to mine - manacles and all. What do you say?_

Tricia blinked once and then twice and it took all of her self control not to squeal like an excitable first year. He was offering himself to her on a silver platter, to do with as she pleased. Immediately, her mind began to race with streams of filthy ideas. She could finally get him fully naked – a feat she had not yet managed to achieve. She could make him strut around his study in her panties. She could even introduce him to the forbidden pleasures of anal penetration. There was so much she could do and she was positively beside herself with glee. Of course, there was the chance that she could lose, which would be a mild disappointment but could still ultimately make for a satisfying encounter.

_Deal. _

Her response was simple and to the point, heavy with anticipation of what was to come. She was determined to win. Tomorrow, she would go down to that dungeon and she would work harder than she had ever worked in class before. She wanted him on her own terms and she would do everything in her power to get him.


End file.
